Two Poems by Melissa Watt

Poetry

What did we know of death? Nothing/ but narcissus bloomed like hiccups/ in the front yard and/ we were the kingdoms and the questions.

Three Poems by Aaron Belz

Poetry

So this girl messages me/ do you want to hang out sometime./ So I look and see she actually has a boyfriend./ The boyfriend as it turns out is a reindeer./ And not only that, a metal display reindeer.

Two Poems by Claire/Spike Dougherty

Poetry

Does Billy know and does Billy know what it looks like? Do you know Billy? Do you know, Billy? If it’s only me and Billy in a room, does she care if she sees? Did you expect Billy to be a he? Is he a man? Can he dilate?

Two Poems by Hannah Jove

Poetry

I just need someone to be able to love me for at least a decade, one humid and symmetrical decade, until they look at me one day over breakfast and see the empty quarry that I have never once stopped cutting slate from.

Diagram Poems by Jessy Randall

Multimedia, Poetry

Source for illustrations:Source for illustrations: William Austin Cannon. The Root Habits of Desert Plants. Washington, D.C.: Carnegie Institute, 1911. William Austin Cannon. The Root Habits of Desert Plants. Washington, D.C.: Carnegie Institute, 1911.

Trafika Europe Corner by Andrew Singer Featuring Adrian Opriou

Poetry, Trafika Europe Corner

I am now trying to write about all this but words are never enough to describe the loss of words. The words of my own language had become objects already then, the words of the other language are objects too, maybe even more gnarled and barbed. Every day they must be brought from a storage room under your house, where they lie dusty and crammed like appliances and bicycle wheels; then you must carry them up on your back and carefully arrange them, so that simultaneously with the text you also build the walls of the house, so that you have a bed to sleep in, a cup in which to pour the coffee.

Jon-Michael Frank’s “Diana Ross & The Supremes”

Multimedia, Poetry

I remember hearing those songs for the first time again and finding them so complicated and painful. They use longing almost as a vital sign, which makes me think of Joseph Joubert saying, “the punishment of those who have loved women too much is to love them forever.”

Russian Optimism

Poetry

From mom’s bedroom,
/ A crooked legged cripple/ 
Emerged. It was dad.../ I walk the same way! 
Our gene pool is bad.

Three Poems by Todd Colby

Poetry

You’re exhausted. You tell me you’re/ exhausted, so you should sleep;/ and not worry that I'll write on/ your face with a Sharpie,

“Tension Sketches,” Poems by Mathew Johnstone

Poetry

Kept, trails, of gun / undistracted / Lined alteration’s figment / we cut the tree / to / move it, image / damp When thing is many / arrays / have not understood / Translator, diminish over them / left to meant to us / scratched, illness, the absence of / turning into thing / is the mountain eats men...
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The Indiscrete Tarot by Candice Wuehle

Poetry

Another savory feeling in my mouth. Starless solstice morning. My dad Drops me At high school And I’m alone Again. It’s a snow day. I don’t care. I go to the dark room. I love the empty Gymnasium, journalism room. It’s ok. The janitor is also here and he has a set of keys and will give me access If...
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