Category: Print Issues

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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Cherry Bomb

C. E. Janecek FINDINGS: There is a T1 hypointense, T2 hyperintense lesion within the left anterior pituitary. This measures approximately 6 mm coronal by 5 mm sagittal by 7 mm craniocaudal.    The...

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Rapture with Foul Mouth

Kale Hensley In vain, I wore this flesh as a mistake, bred so             proper by this derelict age. Oh, despise do I the decorum of being crossed: be meek, forgive ...

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Never Look a Gift Horse in the Mouth

Daniel Brennan the gift. the gift horse. the horse’s mouth. the rubber cut of tongue and sour steep of breath. the outstanding threat: never look. the troublesome desire to look. his tongue pressed...

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Little Red

Mary Simmons Yes. Yes. What else is there to say? There are no wolves in the forest. We killed them all and let our children beg. Meat in the sun, sweet enough. Basketfuls of hungry, hungry flies....

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Associations

Giljoon Lee Which came first? The egg or the sperm.   The apple or the throat. My throat closing   in on itself. Umma putting sweet yuja tea to my lips. Saying, When the body is ill, the nectar...

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Soft Grids, Long Distance

Julia Talen Julia Kooi Talen is an essayist and poet based in the midwest where she teaches creative writing and composition. Currently a PhD candidate in creative writing, Talen lives with their...

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Confessional Poetry

Matthew 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...

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Easy-Care

Chey Dugan             In the parking lot of Thrive & Blossom, I scratched the stubble on my neck that I had been too lazy to shave away that morning. On my day off, I didn’t have...

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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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