Sennah Yee

For my sixth birthday I got a Mulan backpack, Mulan lunchbox, Mulan PJs, Mulan Halloween costume, and three Mulan dolls, each in different outfits, and with varying lengths of black hair.

2019-09-29T19:30:15-04:00November 2016|POETRY|

Hannah Watts

are you goth if you have black fingernails do you ask how to shoot coins into the drum soak to get off the prints and click click c/lick them clean

2019-09-29T20:21:19-04:00October 2016|POETRY|

Charles Theonia

the fact that it takes so much of the part of the day before my alarm goes off and the rest of the day after i get up to be in the world

2019-09-29T20:21:05-04:00October 2016|POETRY|

Ines Pujos

They bend over to smell every mouth, determining causes of death: black plague, weakened heart

2019-09-29T11:13:16-04:00September 2016|POETRY|

Jamie Mortara

what do i call it when you get us beers and assure me that everything's fine and we never talk about it ever again?

2019-09-29T11:13:10-04:00September 2016|POETRY|

Maurisa Thompson

little boy drags his belly across the yellow grass, squeaks it like a violin. arms out, pretends he is a ship or airplane

2019-09-29T11:01:36-04:00September 2016|POETRY|

Samantha Bares

Where are you in my delusions? With any luck, I narrate you into diver cobbler or blacksmith, a village treasure. Behold—offstage, the forest crone spinning blind for no one.

2019-09-29T11:01:32-04:00September 2016|POETRY|

Valerie Hsiung

KISS ME NOW, YOU SPHINX. KISS ME NOW, MR. WONDERFUL. KISS ME NOW, KISSING TREE. KISS ME NOW, KISSING BOOTH GIRL.

2019-09-29T11:01:15-04:00July 2016|POETRY|

Max Cohen

and you told me you hated my cigarettes but missed me very much and I tried to say the same thing back but couldn’t stop coughing.

2019-09-29T11:00:34-04:00July 2016|POETRY|

Laura Willwerth

Republican Presidential Debate, August 6, 2015, Cleveland, Ohio Republican Presidential Debate, September 16, 2015, Simi Valley, California

2019-09-29T11:00:05-04:00June 2016|POETRY|

Brynne Rebele-Henry

Angry girls, say all our neck-bearded uncles: assholes, we say of them ‘Bout them teeth, say our mommies and their endless Tampax-lilted Marlboros

2019-09-29T10:59:51-04:00June 2016|POETRY|

Kristin Chang

Cut the meat / to release its ghosts / Trade yourself / for a girl / who thinks meat is making / a comeback. In / fifth grade my teacher called me / a chink in the armor /

2019-09-29T10:59:40-04:00June 2016|INTERVIEWS, POETRY|

Thomas Cook

An assault on the stationary floor. The gathering middle. Pray the field clean. Ceramic salsify lies in light. Velvet falcon buttoned in pearls. To your mouth.

2019-09-29T10:59:35-04:00June 2016|POETRY|

Rae Paris

I don’t why she did this, says my mother on the phone, she must have...I don’t know..., and I know by now to wait.

2019-09-29T10:59:30-04:00June 2016|POETRY|

Chloe Firetto-Toomey

Do you remember eating Scottish oysters in Kew Gardens, the bridge overhead? It was Valentine’s Day, light shifted through the Victorian greenhouse.

2019-09-29T10:59:18-04:00June 2016|POETRY|

Jessie Knoles

i cry because snakes don’t deserve to get shot for just being snakes i can swim with them, it’s okay, just put me in that spot

2019-09-29T10:58:44-04:00June 2016|POETRY|

Marcus Slease

Flag prayers to the wind. Jean pulls up her black hoody. You have to protect your face from the wind sez Mina. The cold wind can damage the skin’s barrier.

2019-09-29T10:58:40-04:00June 2016|POETRY|

Aziza Barnes

let’s lay hands on her said the lord. let’s lay hands on her said the soror. let’s lay hands on her said the black man.

2019-09-29T10:57:56-04:00May 2016|POETRY|

Hannah Beresford

Sweet orange almond crumbs stuck to my sweater front as I wobbled into the dining room—having eaten all the leftover naan, flat-out in a stupor on the couch.

2019-09-29T10:57:47-04:00May 2016|POETRY|

Raena Shirali

to burning—if i light the sari on the clothesline—if there are many saris hung hem to hem—if they pass the flame like an infant : hem to hem—

2019-09-29T10:57:41-04:00May 2016|POETRY|

Tanis Franco

on second thought i tried something that was not. i brought my camera thinking i would take beautiful pictures, it was a place to take beautiful pictures. i felt a need to try and capture these.

2019-09-29T10:57:36-04:00May 2016|POETRY|

Halie Theoharides

*FINAL ROSE is a book-length poem / a body of images / a collection of screenshots taken by Halie Theoharides while watching episodes of The Bachelor. FINAL ROSE will be out from Mount Analogue next fall.

2019-09-29T10:57:07-04:00March 2016|POETRY|

Virginia McLure

He shows us his backyard, roosters, limes, a coconut tree, dasheen, aloe like spiked tails. One, I can sell for $50, he says. We ride in a blue-painted boat to the island of birds.

2019-09-29T10:37:08-04:00March 2016|POETRY|

Jeremy Radin

I’ll be here / slipping on the peels / laughing / slipping on the peels / laughing / practicing for your arrival / a word about what you are afraid of / maybe / meet me here / I am so lonely

2019-09-29T10:37:32-04:00March 2016|POETRY|

E.C. Belli

FIELD GUIDE TO ONENESS It does not begin in an empty room, as one would expect. The field you are standing in does not look onto nothing. In fact,

2019-09-29T10:37:23-04:00March 2016|POETRY|

Chelsey Shannon

black medulla “I emulate the black which is a cry but which is not voluptuary like a warning, which has lines, cuts, drips, aspirates, trembles with horror, O black

2019-09-29T10:37:29-04:00March 2016|POETRY|

Sarah Nichols

On Taking Up a Matryoshka Doll Collection All the people I am missing Are stacked matryoshka doll style inside you LOST: LAVENDER AT THE KITCHEN SINK. STEMS FRAYED. Everyone

2019-09-29T10:38:21-04:00February 2016|POETRY|

Tommy Pico

NATURE POEM from Nature Poem When a star dies, it becomes any number of things like a black hole, or a documentary. The early universe of our skin was

2019-09-29T10:38:28-04:00February 2016|POETRY|

Stephon Lawrence

//a spooky mulder field day i want to meet these aliens. it’s strange that i haven’t. have they landed? i hear a balding man call this tiny woman an

2019-09-29T10:38:43-04:00February 2016|POETRY|

Leslie Shipman

At the Sculpture Museum As a child my mother broke the soft wall of my face .....................................The curvilinear of my torn cheek .....................................the model of an arc .....................................floating beneath

2019-09-29T10:38:47-04:00February 2016|POETRY|

Zoe Kingsley

for me & them & us I & it can happen in the house & it can happen in the pub & it can be in the dinner conversation

2019-09-29T10:46:08-04:00January 2016|POETRY|

Jennifer Fitzgerald

Everglades in High Heat mangroves like finger bones dipping into tea stained water warped and bent gators are trained to follow the whirring fan so customers can snap photo

2019-09-29T10:40:08-04:00January 2016|POETRY|

Brooke Ellsworth

RED washing down decongestants with cold coffee reading ur glistening emails just a free-floaty fragment without a torso as if what I was possessed by was your missing arm

2019-09-29T10:47:23-04:00January 2016|POETRY|

Adrienne Raphel

THE RINGMASTER for CK Williams The ringmaster, gaunt in his overalls, seventeen feet tall with a cigarette, leans on the big top. The lions are early, the tamer, late.

2019-09-29T10:47:30-04:00January 2016|POETRY|

Jake Skakun

Winter in the Wismar 1 Rain bloats the city, sets my marrow to wax. My neighbour's beard is stained an ochre O. I rarely leave. The shrill birds echo

2019-09-29T10:47:35-04:00January 2016|POETRY|

Laura Villareal

SARDINE SPINE Never have I seen vertebrae so small, so white like a strand of pearls without luster, unclasped. The spine is tenuous, made for a touch more tender

2019-09-29T10:47:40-04:00January 2016|POETRY|

Ashley Opheim

QUIET INDUSTRY I am sucking on pearls and roasting pears on my body. the vibrant splendour of lilac season is fleeting as a love affair leaves me lush and

2019-09-29T10:48:09-04:00December 2015|POETRY|

Anna Meister

FROM NOTHING GRANTED who wants to be                                    why God doesn’t come her neck

2019-09-29T10:48:23-04:00December 2015|POETRY|

Kasia Juno

ON LEAVING BERLIN I sold all my books for a rock of butter and a glass of almond milk A rock and an almond traded for all those hours

2019-09-29T10:48:23-04:00December 2015|POETRY|

Eva HD

LOGICAL POSITIVISM Oh, these gorgeous days, whatever's the opposite of pathetic fallacy. The glorious milkdrop sun; the walnut heart's rotten meat. . HERON If only I were a heron,

2019-09-29T10:48:27-04:00December 2015|POETRY|

Ryann Stevenson

FUCKING DAFFODILS I turned off. Leaky spout my mind was. I turned off and kept the lights on while I slept. We fucked like deer in prairie grass: camouflaged,

2019-09-29T10:49:13-04:00December 2015|POETRY|

Alysia Nicole Harris

CUPIO DISSOLVI a 30 ft. statue of the magyar riding horseback and my sister climbs it in a flimsy party dress panties showing hoists herself right up the tail

2019-09-29T10:49:19-04:00December 2015|POETRY|

Sara Ann Sütterlin

excerpt from Baveuse (2015), available at Electric Cereal WOMEN WRINKLE You have to be passive to wear Silk . Touching Louise Bourgeois’s spider sculpture was exciting, almost sexual. Ryan didn’t

2019-09-29T10:49:51-04:00November 2015|POETRY|

Erin Lyndal Martin

Fireflies of the Apocalypse It seems natural that I should want to keep my blood, want teeth and closed circles here in lakefront country. I step into the cool

2019-09-29T10:49:45-04:00November 2015|POETRY|

Owen Lucas

510 Permanence of five o'clock At the in-laws', tired Sunday, Where the light rams down Into soupy, roadside weed, Where the chickadees chatter about A sop of misty seed:

2019-09-29T10:50:01-04:00November 2015|POETRY|

Lauren Winchester

CONTINUATION A trend of weather emerges: decomposition. The lake is frozen now, the fish strangled. Any weeds, any green there was, flattened by a cap of glass. The fallen

2019-09-29T10:50:15-04:00November 2015|POETRY|

Sarah Jean Grimm

EARLY EVOLUTION Be a doll now, you say, and I am become one I pluck a flock raw for its plumage Strip, I say, and birds strip bare I

2019-09-29T10:50:44-04:00November 2015|POETRY|

Soren Stockman

Elephant Man: Dark Matter Joseph-called-John moves between the pillars on the stage to glimpse the pixies in the lights before him. He creeps close to them and asks every

2019-09-29T10:51:33-04:00October 2015|POETRY|

Pui Ying Wong

SO GROUNDED For Irene Koronas I cling to objects, for example: a leather-bound book, almanacs, sprigs of dried mints. I would like to build a museum like Pamuk has

2019-09-29T10:51:38-04:00October 2015|POETRY|

Lucian Mattison

SAND PIPERS Chuck clamshells at them for acting mindlessly, these little joggers in bird suits, talons tapping the glass tabletop of ocean spill. They chirp, bicycle miles of sine

2019-09-29T10:51:50-04:00October 2015|POETRY|

Christopher Dollard

Blue sparks flash through the windows of the sleepless as the last train scrapes the elevated rails and rumbles away into the glowing orange dark.

2019-09-29T10:53:27-04:00August 2015|POETRY|

C. Kubasta

I cannot describe the perfect bruises and bite marks on your arm, but Elizabeth Bishop could.

2019-09-29T10:53:55-04:00August 2015|POETRY|

K.T. Billey

About craving, about arthritic haunches on big dogs the distance between childhood and that second thigh

2019-09-29T10:54:05-04:00August 2015|POETRY|

Lisa Hiton

MAHLER’S NINTH Gone, the pile of shut black mouths bowled in cold water. Gone the thyme and tang of shallot, as the garlic burns in the oil. They whir

2019-09-29T10:55:59-04:00August 2015|POETRY|

Derrick Austin

There is a roof one man’s body makes over another. Pine needles on sharp grains. This is what I remember.

2019-09-29T10:55:54-04:00August 2015|POETRY|

Natalie Eilbert

My carriage spills waste. Brown lachrymose blood along crotchlines. My carriage spills waste. Metabolized yellow.

2019-09-29T10:55:23-04:00July 2015|POETRY|

Gillian Sze

(A skilled calligrapher will tell you that they should “give the impression of a sail filled by the wind.” But a poor first stroke, and the others will “look like lost cotton wads tossed by the wind.”)

2019-09-29T10:55:14-04:00July 2015|POETRY|

Annik Adey-Babinski

Never past the pink concrete altar where roasted the Christmas pig Never under a hush, slipping off my shoes, letting you check the door first

2019-09-29T10:55:09-04:00July 2015|POETRY|

Taylor Collier

I wanted it to be like a movie where interrogation leads to advanced interrogation and what you learn in school

2019-09-29T10:44:17-04:00May 2015|POETRY|

Diana Khoi Nguyen

He is ryegrass. The voices of his heart like tensed wings; ripples in the serum of a stoppered vial. Death is the only word in any language sleeping won't spoil.

2019-09-29T10:44:10-04:00May 2015|POETRY|

Julia Kolchinsky Dasbach

the body so like surgeons or Michelangelo we dissected dogs and cats and called it art and took our pictures with the work and turned this fear to wonder

2019-09-29T10:43:38-04:00April 2015|POETRY|