i decayed to a voice a vowel a stressed syllable. trapped in the glass of my childhood jar. i used to stab stars in the top. insects crawled on the...
Browse submissions from past editions, web exclusive content, author Q&A, and more.
The First Time that the Trees Began to Walk | Wendy Dinwiddie
The first time that the trees began to walk, Mae wore pink onesies and couldn’t yet talk. She lived with her mother at the end of the road, and they...
Two Poems | Karthik Sethuraman
man in the land of Uz you don’t know the first thing about a crow where to trace its roots when to call the doctor in the summer what words...
Because A Sharp Girl Must Be A Changeling
And the men say put her over
the fire just to see, and the women
say bake her a cake in a thimble,
just to see
"Queen of Hearts" and "Libra Season"
has a story about human greed and a flood. The Queen
licks the blood from her blade.
We burn his photo under the tree. My friend, I trust her witchcraft.
Two Poems | Brett Shaw
No wonder songs are so full of denial. And what
did you do about that?
My fifteenth summer, I poured tears from two earthen pitchers and half the tears fell on dry ground and the other half spilled into the lake where the ripples spread like whispers in empty echo chambers.
‘My Time With the Angels’ and ‘Administrative Assistant’
I climbed the beanstalk, up and up, to the realm
Of pendulous curtains.
The Listening Tree
What made me want him? That supple, brutal kingsnake of a boy, wine-lipped and longhaired.