nat raum post break-up sex i drive down wyndhurst with [redacted], talking about the tragedy that was no one at their all-girls pre-college program having fingernail clippers. nat raum is an anti-capitalization anticapitalist based on occupied Piscataway land in Baltimore, MD.
Read MoreNicola Brown Out of the Blue It’s not even your birthday it’s mine and the phone call that I won’t get is weighing down the edges of all the little things that I try to do today. Nicola Brown lives and writes in Pembrokeshire on the west coast of Wales.
Read MoreAl Ortolani Delivering Groceries to the Blind Woman on First Street She listened as if sound could tell how I stacked her cans, green beans on one shelf, fruit cocktail on the other, the drawer with the can opener to the right of the sink, to the left of trust, dove-tailed between Jesus and the […]
Read MoreJuan Mobili Open Heart The resurrection of a son, something blossoms beneath his sternum. Born in Buenos Aires and adopted by New York, Juan Mobili keeps realizing how much goodness he missed, when he looked back.
Read MoreJuan Mobili Grilling I wear cheap, worn out gloves, the grill is basic, mostly fire, and meat juicy and tender like an elegy. Born in Buenos Aires and adopted by New York, Juan Mobili keeps realizing how much goodness he missed, when he looked back.
Read MoreLeia Laughlin Sinister Sisters Squished in the corner we avoid socialization and snicker to each other about the stupidity of strangers. Leia Laughlin is new to poetry but wishes to utilize the art form to preserve both the memories and emotions she has of taking care of her great aunt diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.
Read MoreLeia Laughlin Tokyo Station The cicadas scream In trees on hot summer days By the train station. Leia Laughlin is new to poetry but wishes to utilize the art form to preserve both the memories and emotions she has of taking care of her great aunt diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.
Read MoreFredric Koeppel The Terror You Feel when you learn from a chance remark that someone you secretly loved long ago died, and the memory of desire comes disguised as a wafer of ash the priest delicately places on your tongue, and you feel like the animal that didn’t make it to the Ark, the one […]
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