Haiku by Hadi Panahi

Soldiers on the way, picking raspberries towards the shooting field & Hadi Panahi  Hadi Panahi is a PhD student of psychology, living in Tehran, Iran. He writes poetry, in particular short poems. His work has been published in Better Than Starbucks (July 2019), Gyroscope Review (Summer-2019), Metafore (Spring 2019), Rigorous (2019, Volume Three, Issue 3) … Continue reading Haiku by Hadi Panahi

From Being Stalingrad to Nothingness

by Brett Stout After she annexed her existenceandthe Crimea confessions as oxymoron’swere writtenin dead languages onblank Post-It Notesleft in empty carriagesas thebroken dams filled withneon ghetto trashcansand urban rodent predators weresprayingdesigner cologne onme and inthe pages ofmonthly corporate familymagazines, celebrate the revolutionwith blood soaked handsand pinwheelsof death and mass genocide yellow ochreprimary redblackandlime greenpaint strokes … Continue reading From Being Stalingrad to Nothingness

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

Clean Bugs, Dirty Carpet

by Brett Stout The trending of negative scars, the warzone isn’t out thereit’s in here, the militant swansof theunderground resistance movementrenting ghetto apartmentswith bad credit andworse soulsin an unknownTerminus Cityfunerals for future fuehrersand class clownswiretap my docile bodyand defile themannequin after midnightfeed me old bread andrusted hypodermic formulasand vintagecataract addictionswithbirthday cards addressed, to: no oneChe … Continue reading Clean Bugs, Dirty Carpet


by Rebecca Ruth Gould The girl who invited me to live in her tent camp so she could teach me Chechen sat staring in the corner, fearing that any motion might trigger an explosion. Grozny’s flats were levelled. Dolls lay disembowelled on the floor. Glass shards covered the earth. The road’s yellow ribbon rolled like … Continue reading Gronzy