Two Poems

BY Clair Dunlap,
Daydream/Interlude #2 sometimes i just want to wake up and have a mountain slap me in the face and say HERE YOU GO, BITCH, HERE’S YOUR GODDAMN HOME and i think then i’ll be happy. all i’ve ever been looking for is someplace where out…

Four Poems

BY Francesca Kritikos,
I'm waiting outside, wanting to get invited back into your apartment again & again like a bad witch, a wounded creature When you examine me I want to ask if you like what you are finding knowing it is better not to ask   ***   I…

Tame the Coyotes

BY Rios de la Luz,
Rocio was invisible because she wished to be invisible. It was that easy. She disappeared into nothing. Not even a ghost or a trickle of rainwater before it gets sent back into the atmosphere. She lived in a small town overrun by the color…

Five Poems

BY June Gehringer,
Leviathan. The band is always too loud. You can’t remember shit. You write nothing for months and pretend to be a poet. You attempt to remember something you don’t have a name for. ​Youth ​or ​love ​or ​life​. ​Joy,​…

A Portrait of the Artist in Four Kiss Songs

BY Dylan Pyles,
I. Strutter (1996) I am four years old. I come home from the babysitter, who is Aunt Marie. My cousin Abby is sick. She lost all her hair. My hair is still long, and blonde from the summer sun. My parents have strung up Christmas lights…

Two Poems

BY Erick Sáenz,
ode to ocean or what's in it healthy boundaries exist before father, ashes swept border less wall there extends planks set other free lost in texas once found hours later, useless cousin recalls when that trip down baja felt infinite:…

Two Poems

BY Raina K. Puels,
BUZZWINKLE (Based on a true story) Buzzwinkle was a city moose. If Anchorage roads were empty, he walked down the double lines; if there was traffic, he waited & strode through crosswalks at appropriate times. He earned his name…

Eight of the Sinks in the Home of Marshall Edson

BY Tobias Carroll,
1. The one in the bathroom a few feet from where you first walked in. You had muddy hands, as was normal for a boy of your age. You’d somehow muddied them on the walk from your mother’s car to the front door. She had chided you, though…

Three Poems

BY Michael Seymour Blake,
STAY PUT I want to rock with you for ten minutes then I want to spend a half hour deciding if I should take a cab or the subway back home because my stomach hurts and my skin is starting to break out and I’m sweating bad (fuck my…