Category: Print Issues

Confessional Poetry

M.J. Young Every night I cross a bridge. Every night I cross myself & ask to be forgiven for what I have & haven’t done.  Father, Father, Father. My first confession was at eight& I...

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Once I was made of light and apple

Lizzy Ke Polishan peels. My father was a hoe and my mother was    a rake. My brother,    a fishbone; my sister, a crushed egg.   I loved the dirt so much I turned it into my shoes.   I loved...

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Dear Ketchup,

Kate Kadleck Remember when we named ourselves after condiments? When you licked the lamppost in front of my house? I can’t,   for the life of me, recall whether (and if so, for how long) your...

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Easy-Care

Chey Dugan Content Warning: This story contains depictions of and discusses the following sensitive topics: death/dying. In the parking lot of Thrive & Blossom, I scratched the stubble on my neck...

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39mg Tar

Erika Niemi Content Warning: This story contains depictions of and discusses the following sensitive topics: suicide ideation and descriptions of attempted suicide . “Well, the real trick to being...

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Clay Town

Edward Pretty Content Warning: This story contains depictions of and discusses the following sensitive topics: mentions of non-consensual and consensually ambiguous sex acts. “I’m building a...

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Commandment

Raena Shirali -for Ariana Reines         to touch the unfolding spiral i take my nightly seat         at the cusp of fig. i see what i’m supposed to : shapes,         innumerable, in...

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[You will begin your great death into manhood.]

Tyler Michael Jacobs You will begin your great death into manhood.The corn will be picked and the alfalfabaled. The thick scent of pasture will no longersore your eyes. The rain will turn cold and...

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Tracing the Wound

Elaina Edwards Bluestems tangled in the chainlink fence where a clay red coyote hung quietly. This is a warning, mom said, and I nodded. She was doing better. Adjusting to the harsh chemicals and...

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at the lesbian bar in the basement of the motel 8

Madie Barone “And there is, for me, no difference between writing a good poem and moving into sunlight against the body of a woman I love.”            Audre Lorde    the whole...

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