April 20, 2019
Monday Night Prayer
by Kristin Ryan
Through the streets
her head swirls
a ruptured throat,
of a riverbed.
She smells like partially
black coffee, bile.
She slips into the chapel,
last seat, last row.
Years later, she wakes up...
you won’t know
by Mela Blust
when the ghost slips out of you
whether with a bang or just a breath
a step forward or a leap
when the smoke...
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...
Weslyn Rae Newburn
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 l...
photo by Ross (Dragon)
by Savannah Slone
shards of humanity
mimicking a wishbone tug
pulling the trigger on god
suicide of the sky—the Out There
an assembly of the disassembled hollow
sprouting alignment—fevered wo...
call her name No Mercy
by alyssa hanna
i wrote my name at the top
of a desert but when i blinked the wind had turned
the letters to a sad mouth drunk
with decanters and the fumes
of a scorched soul
the lightning bugs burned...
Everything was sharp.
Colors and sounds,
jutting of bone through
the tug of chaos in her chest.
Everything was falling.
Hair from her scalp,
bruised knee caps in front of toilets,
apple and blood into the bowl.
Everything was heavy.
to make the water sick
by alyssa hanna
the rainbow puddle of an oil stain you are
some haunting some specter a desert
desolate i taste the acid the gas this
water has no life but viruses and
bacterial infection turning oxygen to
red to pus to a body gone septic
and i don’t rem...
by Catherine Garbinsky
Out in the orchard,
wasps are burrowing into ripe berries,
sweetness on the vine.
Today I affirm: to relish your sweetness,
but also the bitter and the bruised parts of you.
Gather the salt from my tears,
grind it down wit...
by Kristin Garth
for Harold (from the abused muses/crayons everywhere)
Hold me so gentle while we play pretend.
Outline a sky with my viscera shaped
into a friend. Unpeel me. Careful. Skin
my skeleton — paper, wound around grape
wax gelatin. Discard my defenses. Pick