by Doug Paul Case
Image: Doug Paul Case
The natural light in my bathroom
is finicky: blinding at eight and barely
trickling by noon. My neighbor
has a tree. I spend afternoons
calculating other possible orbits, but
Continue Reading
by Ambika Thompson
Image: Tanno Pippi
A kid going by on his rollerblades
A. Spits at me. It’s unpleasant. Lands on my left cheek. The kid’s clearly congested. This is how the day starts. Sitting on a park bench pretending I’m doing something. Staring at birds. The budding leaves on trees. Anything to make me think of something else. Anything else. Or nothing at all. Try to achieve nothingness. Breathe in and out quickly. Someone passes me by. Asks if I’m ok. I ask for a tissue. The glob is still on my cheek. Continue Reading
by Kathryne David Gargano
Image: E. Spear
the last you’ll speak & the first my ever
after doesn’t look like you no hair no body i
wake myself with walking knife to the edge
& if i jump i didn’t fall / this dress too long Continue Reading
by Alan Irid Fendi
Image: Alan Irid Fendi
Interviewed by Jane Flett
There’s a boy set aflame when the sun comes up—that means everyday. I don’t know who he is because he’s probably a refugee. And refugees are everywhere these days—that means everyday. Continue Reading
by Jasmina Al-Qaisi
Image: Martin Maier
There is something
about the way
my breath was taken away with you
to the bathroom.
(SFX pee + SFX flush + SFX door x 2) Continue Reading
poem and image by Laura Manardo
According to scientists, the butterfly koi do not feel pain,
do not linger on the pulled knuckle hairs
of their fathers. According to them, butterfly koi do not feel the zip
of the blade through the mouth, Continue Reading
by Heather Lee Rogers
The cat will only
eat ballerinas now
I brought home
just one tutu
and her blood lust
laid it down
like sunsets in soup cans Continue Reading
by Mari Knudson
The story of your life is screamed across your face in all caps.
As for death,
You’ll be wormfood by March 15th, year unknown. Flesh broiling
under the Tuskegee sun, though I maintain
that it is still quite nice in the spring. Continue Reading
by Ellie White
I open the bathroom door at work to find
a forest. Green slime coats the trees,
the rocks, the damp earth. Everything
chirps. At the knotted base of an oak
lays a shallow pit. White steam Continue Reading
by Stephanie Nolan
I. Wrap your longest eyelash, not the darkest, left eye,
in a clot of cotton. Like a small cocoon or the first
fingernail clipping of a young child. Continue Reading