Issue 2

Finally Beyond

Finally Beyond the Pine-Treed Back Roads of my Morning Commute, I Think of You Early this September Morning By Tom Laughlin   The bright sun kisses The corn fields that I pass Grown tall and stretched Near to bursting With plump kernels of sweetness within Golden gems that sparkle and spill out over the tops …

Offering What Was Left Behind

Offering What Was Left Behind By A.T. Halaby   Often I have taken words by the mouth like I would any lover and faithful to their traces      they are not just pieces of rock kicked on        sidewalks proportioned from boulders little pieces of mountains        shaped by the pressure it took              to separate them.   I …

In Between

In Between By Dana Shahar   When the song starts to play, It’s the trembling notes that grip you like tiny, pink fingers. When we start to dance, it’s wool socks on carpet and mouths full of laughter. I feel exposed, like an orange, And I reach for the dozens of pieces that made up …

How I Learned To Smell The Rain

How I Learned To Smell The Rain A Poem for Devi Lockwood By A.T. Halaby   I let the thunder sit on my chest as I slept   as each drop of rain was paused, waiting to   make its move toward the earth.   Just then I witnessed sets of arms reaching out as …

From Inside My Body

From Inside My Body By A.T. Halaby   Something like. The night Was still happening and. The morning wasn’t ready. Like Language’s suggestion (it’s struggling, I Mean, really, it’s in trouble) Is in its deal with my mind. To tell me what I want to hear. Thoughts don’t tire out, they Don’t have bodies. What …

Equinox

Equinox By Ashley Puddester   Summer nights draw to a close and our glory days are done. Leaves already changing, and soon winter has begun. Warm, vibrant sun broke through the fog for one last day, Until the absence of you sapped the magic away. Hypothermic souls shiver: frostbitten, sickly blue, The same shade of …

Down Your Drain

Down Your Drain By Connor Seavey   Wash the demons down your drain Never to be seen again Where do they go When you’re done with them? What are we without them? The night is long Long enough for yearning Crawling slowly Toward something else Close the door Lock the bolt Wash the demons away …

Breathe

Breathe By Josh Nieman   Inhale. Gasping at the start. Relish in the satisfaction. Gentle touch of my fingers caress your skin. Clutching my hand against your wrist to pin you down. Dripping wet with beads of sweat that spread from every pore. Your senses rush and sway for the entire length of this roller …

Alone

Alone By Keegan Eller   The moon shines, The sun blinds. The wind blows, Cold as snow. A smile fake, Work of art. The dawn breaks, Like my heart. To have all, But have none. To stand tall, Until you’re done. While you slept, Alone I wept. All the peace, Yet none for me. And …

The Way

The Way By Keegan Eller   It’s the way he looks at you with a glint of mischief in his eye as if he knows your reaction before you know what he’s planning. It’s the way he laughs and grins when he does something you would otherwise deem cheesy but it makes a smile burst …

Wavefire

Andre Tufenkian “Wavefire” June 2016

The Perfect Pitch

Amy Xayarath “The Perfect Pitch” June 2016

Untitled

Amy Xayarath “Untitled” Unknown date of creation

Repsychle

Gavan D’Auria “Repsychle” 3/10/17

Hand

Madison Umbrello “hand” 1/4/17

Eye

Madison Umbrello “eye” 12/29/16

Something About History (I’m Sure It Was On My Mind)

A. T. Halaby “Something About History (I’m Sure It Was On My Mind)” 3/5/2017

The Peculiar Case of Jib Tompkins

The Peculiar Case of Jib Tompkins By Boyd Mason               Jib Tompkins was not a nice man. This was the consensus of nearly the entire village of Wintershed, Vermont. Though no one really knew why. He was shunned by all. When the scruffy old hermit came down from the hills to do his monthly …

Body of My Own

A. T. Halaby “Body of My Own” 3/6/2017

Threads

Theadore Domino “Threads” 1/4/2017

A Year to You

A Year to You By Dana Shahar               Your January is the pair of pilling wool mittens into which you tuck your pink-tipped fingers. It is the New Year’s fireworks show you missed because you were stuck in traffic at the stroke of midnight. It is the frostbitten branches glazing telephone wires, the naked …

Due Process

Due Process By Lubica Kotevski   August 27th, 1998             It was blazing. Scorching, really.             “What is it this time?” asked a short, slightly overweight woman from the crowd. She wasn’t genuinely directing her question at anyone but rather just adding chatter to the already heavy crowd.  The blockade of blue-lighted police cars lit …

A Letter to the Unforgiven

A Letter to the Unforgiven By Teri-ann Fico   I remember the first time you parallel parked. You fit so perfectly, so evenly, and even when I stood on the other side of the street, I could still see how much you belonged in that spot, that time, that space. For now you could finally …

A ‘Jolly Good Show’: A Fan Theory on Lord of the Flies

A ‘Jolly Good Show’: A Fan Theory on Lord of the Flies By Lucia Arrigo               Lord of the Flies, written by William Golding, is a novel about a group of well-mannered British schoolboys who are stranded on a deserted island following a plane crash. Without adults or society, the children become savages and …

Woman

Madison Umbrello “woman” 8/17/16

Colors & Shapes

A. T. Halaby “Colors & Shapes” 3/1/2017

Thoughts of a Useless Mind

Thoughts of a Useless Mind A Collection of Irish Shanties By Alexandria Drouin   Cemetery Ballet   Dragging the stick along the fence Approaching the graveyard where they buried the remains A stone: “Here lies her hopes and dreams” The roses will rise, but the ground will freeze   A beautiful carousel covered in snow …

Thick Thighs

 Thick Thighs By Charlotte Koch   My thighs rub together when I walk. They sing a spiteful symphony, Brisk whispers as I shuffle down the hall— Pooling at the cross roads of my body, Causing flooding for miles around.   Three inches below the apex of my thighs, The point where layers of fat touch …

This Is How I Remember Us & Ours

A. T. Halaby “This Is How I Remember Us & Ours” 3/5/2017

Nouveau Riche

Nouveau Riche By Teneisha Mytil   Golden rings and flash banging dresses We are the next generation The princes and princesses   Draped in green paper like fine silk Our eyes are us The healthy amongst the ill   And we sin our way through time Doing the cokes, opes, and dopes Make the world …

-its, -icks, and -ips

-its, -icks, and -ips By Teneisha Mytil   Please don’t mind my fits My annoying and uninspired little tricks The way the pen in my hands does a little flip Around my fingers every time there’s a little tick tick tick -ing in my brain Which feeds me my daily dose of tips To get …

Dance Fever

Dance Fever By Teneisha Mytil   Let the beat move you Let the heat drive you Hearts-a-thumpin Feets-a-stompin As long as I’m with you My soul’s aflame You know I’m not to blame Flashing lights and swinging hips C’mon baby let’s get jiggy with it Reach an all new high We can’t stop Won’t stop …

We Are You, But Not Your Love

We Are You, But Not Your Love By Amanda Bordenca   You do not control me. Listen when I speak. I hear you but don’t listen. Is it me that you seek? We are you. As confused as you may be. You are not you Without a little of me. Your thoughts we own, Your …

Woman-Loving

Woman-Loving By Racheal Rodman   Too much anxious time is spent thinking about the space that you and I occupy   in a political sense. Rather than ruminate on rhetoric, I refuse huddling under a queer umbrella   and linger instead in rain of Sappho, woman-loving, self-conscious, even gleeful,   not guilty or effaced.

Unfelt Freedom

Unfelt Freedom By Drew A. Breton   When I walk down the street All I see is my feet Wanna make footsteps Laid down in concrete   Want to be seen for the things I’ve done Just want to be loved by everyone But people don’t see the shooter Only remembering the gun   After …

Trichotillomania

Trichotillomania By Charlotte Koch   I think the beginning of it all was the pulling. The careful process of latching on, prying that infinitesimal piece of yourself from your own body, to gain control of your thoughts, to go blank for a while.   I can remember seeing myself for the first time, the horror …

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