Adam Hamze

March 30, 2016

i have seen my lifeless body. it has its own name that sounds nothing like mine. it lives in the bathroom stall of some restaurant, bloody & left behind. in the ditch down the street from the university, rain falling on its silence. […]

Alexis Orgera

March 30, 2016

ON THE OCCASION OF THE POET’S SUDDEN DEATH There are different kinds of dying                      my heart’s still not right all night I shake scorpions            from the Technicolor bath towel how do we mourn […]

J. Scott Brownlee

March 30, 2016

J. Scott Brownlee is a poet-of-place from rural Texas. His work appears widely and includes the chapbooks Highway or Belief (Button Poetry Prize, 2013), Ascension (Robert Phillips Prize, 2015), and On the Occasion of the […]

Anita Olivia Koester

March 30, 2016

Nipples, Ribs, and Helixes The point at which incarceration becomes inhuman begins at the body. First boundary we come up against: mouth, breast, ripe nipple. A shark tooth betwixt her clavicles, her hair helixing down, […]

Aziza Barnes

March 27, 2016

Aziza Barnes is blk & alive. Born in Los Angeles, Aziza currently lives in Oxford, Mississippi. Her first chapbook, me Aunt Jemima and the nailgun, was the first winner of the Exploding Pinecone Prize and […]

Saara Myrene Raappana

March 27, 2016

Letter To my Teenaged Self: You Are a House, You Are a Hammer, You’re the Momentum of the Nail. In many ways you’ll always pull on boots to rise from bed and walk from room […]

Patrick Samuel

March 23, 2016

I thought I saw a deer disrepair function / from behind one of the trunks / or branch bore back in the beating […]

Marina Blitshteyn

March 23, 2016

i am a cricket now
in a crevice of ur room
i want to be a cute cricket
a creaking floor board cricket […]

Britteney Black Rose Kapri

March 23, 2016

Casually. In between a joke and her fingers inside. Something about scarred. Something about trauma. Clinical. I do not laugh. […]

SJ Sindu

March 23, 2016

In Singapore, halfway through her journey, Nandini sits in a cramped room memorizing her fact sheet. Hot air swirls inside the walls, unmoved by the lethargic, creaking ceiling fan. All five of them have been stacked in here for a week—Nandini, her mother, her three little brothers. Her fa-ther had stayed behind in Sri Lanka. […]

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