by Cynthia Lan | Mar 31, 2024 | Fiction, Issue #6, Issues
I was thirteen when I did it for the first time. Thirteen had always been my lucky number. Other kids shied away from it, claiming that it would bring misfortune. I wasn’t one of them. My school ID number contained 13 somewhere in the long string of numbers. I was...
by Sophie Bebeau | Mar 31, 2024 | Issue #6, Issues, Poetry
please click on all the images containing an animal. please click on all the images containing a motorcycle. are you sure that’s what a crosswalk looks like? years from now you’ll be glad you did this. select the bat. select the car. select divorce. select 200mg....
by Lucy Zhang | Mar 31, 2024 | Fiction, Issue #6, Issues
I meet Rain at the end of the tunnel. It used to be one of the tunnels you had to drive through to get to the other side of the mountain. No one travels this path anymore thanks to a new bullet train system built to go through a shorter, less infrastructurally taxing...
by Ayesha Khan | Mar 31, 2024 | Issue #6, Issues, Poetry
When you are old, Mr. Ousmane had come to believe, you dwell somewhere between the human and the natural world. Especially if you have crossed that fragile threshold of eighty, the human world begins to discard you, but the natural world isn’t yet ready to embrace...
by Lake Markham | Mar 31, 2024 | Fiction, Issue #6, Issues
It was hot and that was about all it was. Peros drove. When he was tired of that, he drove some more. Then he pulled the truck to the side of the road and, taking the map from the console, looked out upon the brushy land stretched endlessly into the open yawn before...
by Aniket Sanyal | Sep 25, 2022 | Issue #5, Poetry
I am perhaps in aweof your feathered-cap majesty,you hypocrite princess,our transplanted Kareninaof a Kremlin motorway.What good or what rot,in being a century short or tall,when I cannot put thumb and fingeron your oily roots …I see such strange woundsin your...
by Luke Carmichael Valmadrid | Sep 25, 2022 | Issue #5, Poetry
Your words have faded, once perchedbetween the lines, now aloft in eddiesmore erstwhile than eccentric, that distortthe shape of sadness that hangs overmore than it looms. Your shadowhas lengthened, once tailored to an acerbic wit,now high off karmic eutrophy,...
by Mark Imielski | Sep 25, 2022 | Issue #5, Poetry
I was told truth is the oakthat holds its leaves each winter. A promisedelayed. As it turns out, I forgetthe rules. I never can know them. This one is anothermask for doubt. This one is the coverfor an empty bed. This one is the sheet drawn back—the old clothes...
by Cat Dixon | Sep 25, 2022 | Issue #5, Poetry
1.Did you hear the horse thunder and taste the dustin your cabin? The wild hooves kicked up a stormlast night. The hours passed as I reread your letter,licked the envelope flap you sealed, traced your name, and wondered if you were reading my poems.Nothing fills...
by Claudine Guertin-Ceric | Sep 25, 2022 | Fiction, Issue #5
She’d only meant to ride the elevator down to collect the mail. Now she was trapped in it. Contained by sleek, unclimbable metal walls, a round chrome rail that raced around the space to nowhere, a dark touchscreen panel of buttonless buttons, and underneath her, the...
