Jill McKenna Reed
I hold your heel while you wail;
my mouth skull-cracked. […]
I hold your heel while you wail;
my mouth skull-cracked. […]
I chase their bright twenties
and the steeple of their youth. […]
Nurses are typically women: what I think
when the goatee wants to take my blood. […]
We’re horseshoeing towards the Oregon coast, me with May, us keeping each other awake, talk departing our heads. We’re in a car, slouching, feeling clayed. We pass lumber yards, the sweat rings on ball caps of the Pacific Northwest, the tree trunks carried as cargo like battering rams in cribs, all labor. […]
PEN/Robert W. Bingham Prize for Debut Fiction Shortlist: In the Country: Stories by Mia Alvar The Turner House by Angela Flournoy Mr. and Mrs. Doctor by Julie Iromuanya The Symathizer: A Novel by Viet […]
That’s just a tiny sample of the comic that is up at Electric Literature. Check it out!
Three poems by Christopher Soto and an interview with Christopher by H. Melt. […]
Or was I the wrangled crag,
obsidi-flecked in my own volcano choke
as the hot pink thread whispered round my jags
and a young smudge yanked— […]
I am a statue built too close to a moving bus. Fluorescent
lights blur the bedroom. Here, our wings beat time with the
tune on the radio. […]
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