Anicca

by Zach Beach Occasionally,when we wakein the stillness of night, in a quietnessthat allowsthe ticking watch on the dresserto make itsvoice heard, our soul dips its toes intothe void.It’s a call we all get at some point,with questions on the other sideof the line, is this,all there is?what if none of it matters?is it true … Continue reading Anicca

Object Permanence

by  Amanda Pendley it was poetic justice maybewhen two days earlier, the three of us stoodsquished and stepping on feetin front of the dull dorm bathroom mirrorfor a friend’s photography projectwe were told to act natural as wepretended to examine our skin for blackheadsand check our teeth for spinachand reach behind our ears in search … Continue reading Object Permanence

Punting Everything We Don’t Have The Guts To Say Into The Sky

by Amanda Pendley little kids blush when confronted with crushesthough it may be the purest form of loveany of us will ever haveI’m stumbling upon more and more days latelywhen I wish I could go back to thatwe always teased zach about shannonand you teased me about zach and hissoccer trained legs that punted kickballsstudying … Continue reading Punting Everything We Don’t Have The Guts To Say Into The Sky

Rage

by Kate St. Germain I took any advice I could get for six months after Lila died. I meditated, I socialized. I focused on the present; I planned for the future. I was counseled, I was massaged by reiki masters and prophesized by shamans and priests. I went vegan and munched on leafy greens. I … Continue reading Rage

Raspberries

by Jordan Williams To grow down first, then upin a fruit filled half acremeans a bittersweet bloodline pucker-tart memoriesthat sour pop in rear mouthas though unripened grapes small, unimpressive green globesraised on trellised vinespropped up right down the center of our backyardlike a vein we ran aroundduring kickball and the landlord, Judy with her obsessive … Continue reading Raspberries

Old Umbrellas for the New Blood Rain

by Brett Stout The metallic neon bloodladen Americanconcrete andgrass, Ohio is now singed, safety pinnedaccessories and mementosof futurepresentand past enthusiastic wars, black tie dinnersandcheap gas masksmelt protests ofpeaceor annihilationborn soloon gargantuanwaves of a spring unrest andseverelydefaulted apathy, a coagulationofeuphoric andembittered state lotteriesand national drafts, hands to faceandface to facea reduction oftear gas laden emotionsandcentrally stationed … Continue reading Old Umbrellas for the New Blood Rain