by Katharine Coldiron
Nothin bout this fella to grab on to.
by Gary Jackson
Silence is its own language.
by Samiya Bashir
She knew a sly creature who pointed to which branches birthed best.
by Roohi Choudhry
Mosaic mermaids, fuchsia spandex, lime cotton.
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May 28th, 2015
Nowhere to go, see. Nothin for a while, nothin and nothin, just the lil lap of lakewater against us and the shore.
May 26th, 2015
Made you into a dream again.
May 21st, 2015
Understand: nothing you need exists.
May 19th, 2015
In this country, a man could be lost and no one would know enough to grieve, not even his own mother.
May 14th, 2015
Catherine Pierce talks poems about identity, taming her inner critic, and her latest collection, “The Girls of Peculiar.”
May 12th, 2015
Tough guys don’t dance. You had better believe it.
May 7th, 2015
With a doer’s, a maker’s, a lover’s nostalgia, while I stumbled on, hypnotized by the forked flickering in my mind.
May 5th, 2015
Spent bullets sparkle on streets grimy with the thud of winter.
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