by L. A. Ballesteros Gentile
There’s so much in it—the word sometimes: nostalgia and yearning and tenderness and regret… And so simple, too, so obvious: two four-letter words past the stage of hyphenation that portmanteaus often travel in fright.
Read More »by Pulkita Anand
I thought to tell something importantRead More »
Then suddenly, I started groping
by Megan Diedericks
the wind swept up
the memories twirling in my head:
it spun out of control, and dropped
when i stopped
next to it.
by Tauwan Patterson
after Ross Gay
among the delights of his delight.
pecans. a memory unplugged via his:
a backyard in new orleans. a pecan tree
dropping its nuts. an invitation
Read More »by Lena Ho
If I take a grain of sand
And steal it from a heap
Away from a mountain
That hum the stars to sleep
Is it still a heap?
by Jess Whetsel
I find myself shaking when I read the news these days.
My hands tremble as I take the world in, worst-first.
It feels like spoon-feeding myself toxic sludge.
It sits like a stone in my belly amongst the rising tides
of bile and acid. There is only so much I can stomach
before I have to lie down like a Victorian woman on a fainting sofa,
the back of one hand kissing my damp forehead,
the other arm lolling towards the floor like a corpse limb.
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