Author: Editor Team

By: Erin Moine ARNICA startled with a sharp intake of breath as the angrystarling swooped past her head. The skin of her right cheek tingled asthe bird’s feathers brushed it. She grunted in irritation as the starling,perched in a nearby tree, screeched at her. “Go build your nest somewhere else,” she hollered back. Her ears…

Soy Siciliana Americana,Blood born, trained, and raised in America.Pero tengo espíritu de Mexicana Chingona,pero ahí me llaman la gringuita. This poetic escape releases my duende,inside MLA format citations.This country drives fast to fly far away,quotations, immigrations, deportations. Marmalade speeches sap of bitter war,My words dance on paper like Emily D.A funeral tangos in the mind’s…

By: Johanna Deletti, Elysia| Harman Projects You could not know my journey through jaded dreams undermy Goddess Gaze. Seaweed green mirrored against layers of a metallic stream occupied byincandescent tumult. Flaming red ringlets amongst writhing serpentine like a creature whocoils like my tail molts into submission. Surrounded by lava-soaked fire ripplets, panic waits for my…

By: Noel Nephew The death of Robin Williams was like the death in the family.He was the father figure I never had, and suddenly he was gone.Suicide, they said. Tears of a clown.I know those tears well. Thatsudden, silent, sadness after a night of performing for othersI learned early on that I couldn’t be the…

By: Noel Nephew Just because I feel no needto fill a quiet moment with noisedoes not mean I have nothing to say.I’m gathering. Collecting momentsothers might not notice. Contentto just observe and letthe world show itself to me.Then I can begin my weave.Pick and stitch and create worlds all my own.There my voice is the…

By: Christian Bauer Not to throw some Brontë at you, but ‘little things recall us to earth’ (that’s Jane Eyre). Do you ever fall into yourself when you’re trying to get to sleep? What’s that called? It’s kind of like being calledback to reality. So, I’ll call it that. Recall. It’s an odd sensation—like goosebumps…

By: Sam Atwood I lay here in post-existential bliss wait, noWhat’s the other one? coital Legs twined togetherTrickster, they saidI didn’t catch a name Eyes like a star at its zenithEach kiss like a knife across my skincaught up in the inexorable tide of being(I was a little drunk, okay?)They promised a night of pleasure…

By: Sam Atwood The stories I tell myself are reflected in your eyesHow beautiful, that after millenniaof resting on walls of cool dry cavesIn throats, in loins, in that rare momentwhere neurons fire just rightwe shaped youa story made manifest.Some days, I can’t help but echo youMost, though, I can’t hear your replyIn truth, you…

By: Cole Grennen And the Cardinal hits the window cries thrice in the meadow to haunt and thrill lies the window Shimmer and shill swings low remarkable in the meadow Rattling the bottles on the still my mother flutters, arms akimbo and the cardinal hits the window Dreary forlorn fount of want and will Bridesmaids…

Kicked Dog with Rabies By Cole Grennan Looking out the Window of my Dressing Room on my Wedding Day to See a Roman Catholic Funeral Procession By Cole Grennan