by Josh Stone In jagged wood, rivers run tentacle armsdown meadows made in times pastremnants of Ice Giants creeping into virgin valleys,carving canyons and cliffs and all of thisdone in the silent eyes of the animals who forgenerations roam mellow meadows, grazingon tip-toe tulips by streams singing theirpitter-patter songs in rainbow spray. Rise and fall, thrive and decay, born againunder Immortal Ice Eyes, wise, Glaciers … Continue reading Glaciers

by Nina Benites meteorologists couldn’t explain why the air that day felt like saguaro spikessharp grass bounced once more in the instant, honey-soaked electricity between us two weeks later we sprawled on that same green, cautiouslyyou asked, “should I have waited?” while I traced opal hieroglyphs into your side the night before, the delicious whisper of embarrassment dustedmy cheeks, those balls of dough you used … Continue reading lavender

A love poem would only be a page blankOf everything but the commas: a snowstormAnd the shit dog owners were too lazy to pickUp. A piano has fifty-two white keys andThirty-six black keys for playing love songs untilI take a hammer and smash the instrument to pieces.Chopin and Schumann can eat my ass. by Ethan Resek Continue reading If I were ever to write one,

April 16, 2019 Modern Shenzhen, modern in a post-Deng,Post-technological boom sense, is only aFew years my elder. Growing up, I watchedThe evisceration of a “fishing village” and itsInfantile self-sufficiency a TranscendentalistWould think bucolic or picturesque, you know,Despite the detritus of wars and wrongs and all thatAnd I watched not a snake shed its skin butA caterpillar deliquesce in its rancid cocoon(Death as a prerequisite for … Continue reading Learning to Love an Accident of a Hometown

by Nasrin Lin plastic city room for two / stay for the fireworksup to you / take the downtown express I go and lie, shoelaces untiedacross the fresh flowers / eucalyptus young from the plazatucked a letter, cursive exaggerate / someone else’s name / I tossand think a non-thought / eucalyptus aromatherapy, antiseptics or airfreshener for this room on Avenueof the Americas / released from … Continue reading Veined Grids

by Max Migdail i am not the flowerflowers are beautiful things but weknow only half i wonder what bees seeas they go bud to bud and petal topetal all the bees seem to seek onlyflowers previously visited one comesone leaves and not one minute later buta second visitor has come to spread goodtidings and now a third and fourth allwhile the door next by remains … Continue reading i am not the flower

by Max Migdail to expand on beyondor retreat internal unseenrequires borders to have meaninghas such a thing been true for wildly longand where do you go once the borders are goneit becomes impossible to travel in a place were all was oneafter all is the atmosphere not simply another border passablein our quest to find ourselves we lose ourselves and risk the cycle of harmscience … Continue reading cyclops i