Poetry
Transitions
Evie Shockley
i. death descends, in spite of help, in spite of the one who would help who is rendered instead—on the sweaty bed, on the cold bathroom tiles—witness. but what is ...
Selected Poetry
Diorama 1871 (Head Resting Against a Lace Antimacassar)
I don't get to be the same person each time, but still, think of all the atrocities I've climbed out of. It helps to carry a rope. I sound ominous but what I'm saying ...
Super Bloom
America, like a monstrous sow vomiting cars and appliances into a green ooze resembling dollar bills, where is my America? Agnostic and uninsured, I eat celery, onions, and ...
Golden
Everything will be fine, to paraphrase the anchoress, and everything will be golden, like a crock of manuka honey or hand-picked Bartlett pear, or like the ...
Dream with Gun and Five-Year-Old Daughter
Hours before the divorce was final, the day the divorce became final, I woke, knowing the dream I had just dreamt could not be touched, the dream in which my daughter took the ...
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Poetry
Computer Assembly Plant
Prince Bush
After Betsy Every night a drove of us leaves Our work building And clot the lot’s exit upTill emptied and distant, No different when I’m stuckWith my ...
Poetry
September
Cecily Parks
I was conversing with the blossomless canes in the hot fall air the weak breeze that briefly jostled us all gone I guess I loathe this ...
Poetry
Queer Liberation
Christopher Soto
Bought a T-shirt with Sylvia Rivera’s face Spent $50 to hear heterosexuals sing at Pride Walked quickly past the unhoused Clutching my Telfar leaving my Tesla I’m ...
Poetry
16
Ocean Vuong
I was a goner, they said. Oh well. Could’ve been worse. Could’ve been born before they dug up all the words. & we’d just stand around trying not ...
Poetry
Excerpt: When the Arab Apocalypse Comes to America
George Abraham
Shall I condemn myself a littlefor you to forgive yourself —Fady Joudah, […] I condemn the blooded river that became a sea we cannot crawl out of. I condemn the ...
Poetry
Structure
Margaret Ross
Walking back I pass a block-long dune of rubble and the man whose job it is to shovel it. An iron rectangle he’s nestled in debris makes a little door he’s ...
Poetry
Mnemonic Device
Benjamin Garcia
Poetry
