JOINED JOURNEYS a monthly Mental Health Awareness feature by Maddie M. White Check and Balance System Anonymous What mental illness do you suffer from? Bipolar Depression When was the first time you noticed it and how? I noticed it probably when I was in the 12th grade, I am now 23, and I didn’t seek help till probably after my first year of college. I truly noticed it, and the effects it had on my life when I was in an emotionally unstable relationship with a much older guy.

Cover Art by Renee Firer ISSUE FOUR: THIN LINES Letter from the Editor Title Poem: “thin lines” Mela Blust Accompanied by photo by Ross (Dragon) “Midsummer in the city that cannot hold you” Haley Campbell “THE MAGICIAN” Catherine Garbinsky “Cupcakes” Piyali Roy Bhowmick “raging/blazing/brave” Vanessa Maki “Lone Star” John LaPine “Nest” Kristin Ryan “If Monet Had Painted the Western United States” Nikoletta Gjoni “Nocturnal Monster's Self-Care Routine” Savannah Slone "the thin

Issue Four: Featured Interview Your Path is Not Going to Look Like Anyone Else's: A Witchy-Good Discussion with Kailey Tedesco on her new book Lizzie, Speak Tianna, EIC of Rhythm & Bones: Thank you for agreeing to be our interviewee for Issue Four, Kailey. I’ve been a fan of your work for some time, before I even started Rhythm & Bones. I picked up a copy of your book She Used to Be on a Milk Carton when it was first published and was enamored with your poetry. Now you have a

Russ Daum is the highly dedicated and extremely talented illustrator for the upcoming collaboration A Victorian Dollhousing Ceremony being released this June at Rhythm & Bones Press between Kristin Garth, Justin Karcher, and Tianna G. Hansen. He selected poems from the collection to illustrate (see some samples below), and he has been a joy to work with. Artist's Statement: Russ Daum often draws in the midst of chaos and lets his subconscious guide his hand in seeking a calm

Stomped Petals by Josh Dale Summer 2043, unknown location. Last marker: 100 miles west of Reno, Nevada: Am I trapped in a polyethylene dream? Or is this fragmented reality, truly, really? It’s hard to discern these days because there is no such thing as a dystopia, only normalcy. I am the consequence. This desert, my grave. When will it stop? I’m coughing blood now. The shrub is nearly dead. It’s gone, all gone. Denver is destroyed. Please— *** Winter 2039, occupied in the su

Monday Night Prayer by Kristin Ryan Through the streets her head swirls black thoughts: a ruptured throat, the bottom of a riverbed. She smells like partially digested lettuce, black coffee, bile. She slips into the chapel, last seat, last row. Years later, she wakes up in her bed, rotten scent of truth in her throat. Runs fingers over ribcage, over scars, tangled hair. Empty bottles of Listerine hidden in the trash. _____________________________________ Kri

you won’t know by Mela Blust you won’t know when the ghost slips out of you whether with a bang or just a breath a step forward or a leap when the smoke clears and you find yourself somewhere unknown you won’t know when you’ve changed just enough to leave behind pieces of yourself crumbs to find your way home when home shifts from comfortable to weary you pack your things and go quietly into the night the compass points north but everything feels south y

Turtles, Siblings and Hondas by Caitlin Cording My brother, Kirk, did this weird thing with the turtles inhabiting our garden pond. Every summer he would construct a metal den, grab an industrial-sized cosmetic sponge and a few wayward fellas, then polish their shells. Honestly, it was like some sort of luxury car wash, stroke spa treatment. I would taunt him for it of course, but his smile never faltered as he scrubbed. He’d tell me removing algae from their shells enables t

PROGRESS by Lauren Saxon looks nothing like I hoped she would. she is a one night stand. she is 3pm traffic. I overplay her on the radio & grow tired of her voice. she is lukewarm leftovers. uninsured therapy. discontinuous. we spend most days making small talk about the weather & at night, I whisper her the only prayers I can remember. she picks me out of convenience. she is nonlinear. she is afraid of commitment. I stand in the mirror & beg her to meet my gaze. she looks no

Composting by Weslyn Rae Newburn The secret to a beautiful garden is compost – silky, life-sustaining soil. Leave your pile exposed so worms and roly polies can crawl inside to consume the thoughts you discarded like the eyes from the potatoes you left in the pantry too long. Keep an even mixture of carbon and nitrogen material by covering your kitchen scraps with leaves from the Crepe Myrtle you cried under in the spring when your Grandma died. Spray your compost with water