by Ariana Duckett
I wonder where I’d be without her. In a library, scanning the blurbs of books I’d never read. Halfway through a tunnel, unsure which side I came from. Playing with my hair to prove I was worthy of it, for the burden of the female condition can only be shouldered by some.
Read More »by Megan Wildhood
I can hear it from the edge of the dark wood,
but I have to come to its brim to feel
the back and forth of the sea.
by Lungmying Lepcha
the whisp of summer air
smell of diesel between the congested road
the last bit of sun setting
hot beads of sweat tickling down the neck
and the long summer talks
of the wish to go back
grab a cup of ice water
sinking on a chair
near the balcony
with a plate of hot samosas
and ranting about the heat
which seems
unbearable for the hills
the cool breeze awaits to cover the town with its blanket
at night
the sudden signs of rain
thunder clashes it
only to find
a bright day the next morning
by Ron Riekki
in class, so, out of class, I’m sure we did, at least, some
of us, me, anyway, now, here, which I hope it’s OK to do,
and I’m not going to glorify it, or understand it or, maybe,
even write about it, instead, writing about the fragments
by Emma Butcher
A queer flower, not delicate though small,
is the sweet scented bloom of the dog rose,
placed carefully in its sharply-thorned wall.
Read More »by Mel Eaton
What I want in life is to-
-Write my heart out until my fingers grow graphite legs and scribble away.
-Square up with fear and make the first punch
-Throw my art to the wind and let God be the judge:
(tho with the rain, I can’t tell if it is happy or sad)
Read More »
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