by Émilie Galindo
Read More »The blue bite of mild mornings always churn childhood chimes
by Rossana Segovia
First, remind your teacher at a United States boarding school that guacamole is not just enjoyed in the Super Bowl but is also a nurturing dish you eat back home every day.
Read More »We proudly present another amazine poetry reading!
Our wonderful contributor Stacie Eirich reads her poems Earth Mother, Our Hearts a Chrysalis & Tenderness, published on The Amazine in June and August 2024.
Give it a listen below ❤
Read More »by Hisholore
My life’s becoming a looping eclipse
Cold, humid, and frozen at its temples
Faltering away from the noise
Quiet, silent, lifeless, and dull
However, it’s become quite morbid recently
Echoing, loud, and beating with angst
It is wrong to expect a reward for your struggles. The reward is the act of struggle itself, not what you win. Even though you can’t expect to defeat the absurdity of the world, you must make the attempt. That’s morality, that’s religion, that’s art, that’s life.
– Phil Ochs, as quoted in The Complete Phil Ochs: Chords of Fame (1978) by Almo publications
Read More »Submissions to our webzine are officially reopened!
We invite you to send us your contribution to wonder in the form of writing or visual art or basically anything up until December 2 2024.
Find the guidelines here.
In need of more inspiration? Check out our past prompts below:
Read More »by Rossana Segovia
The only thing I could see was the little flames dancing in between my mom’s hands.
In a living room full of darkness, the loud voices of my family were the main focus, singing an uncoordinated attempt of “Happy Birthday” while my mom, with a sweet smile, placed the big white cake in front of me, I stared at it for a long minute while my aunts filled their camera rolls with blurry pictures of my lost eyes, counting the number of candles firmly fixed on the cream, an amount big enough to make me worry about my achievements in life.
Read More »by Sameen Shakya
The God of love grew sick of searching,
For his muse, sad to be lurking,
While his subjects got to loving,
He sat sordid, overthinking –
Curse the powers that be for linking,
His job with what he was missing