Kandace Mack Chirp on, lil’ champ. You’re on cloud 9, crooning grey-tinted blues, playing trumpet with God. Sing that song young soul, and bring us a piece of heaven with that sweet, sappy voice that swept our kitchen at twilight. Play your lil’ tune, poor boy, as you climb toward the stars and march on… Read More Rock On, Baby Bird

Nick Corvino “Those things that are large beyond enumeration, are not us” but where? The ocean, too, yearns, tosses its stiff uniform, then churns silence into itself.             The immensity in continued being can’t grasp what’s grasping. Tendrils (real, and olive feathered) that spore on our limbless curiosities— how  … Read More Those Things that are Large

Maggie Mei-Yin Wong we wade in, so far past the shore no one can see us they cannot see us the water lapping at our chests, moonlight ribboning around our bellies until we are ablaze and tugging, the squelch of fabric from skin like the suction of a surgeon’s tool mid-excavation a reverse    … Read More the moon a spotlight upon our dead man’s float

Joy Fu Only if Ichange my mindcan Godforgive and loveme. Electric wires; yellow buttons; caution signs.Pain and prayer every 21 seconds. Can’t I repentwithout breathing? Reparative air. THERAPY. Also, was I Aye. “If only…”Mind my change ––God canlove and forgiveme. Wires; Electric buttons. YELLOW signs ‘CAUTION!’SSZ-ZSSSS… 2nd December. Every prayer and pain? I can’trepent,breathing without… Read More YELLOW for the Conversion Therapy

Jonathan Van De Loo Sometimes I forget that men can kiss each other. It’s easy to remember the dick sucking The bareback The tight young twink The silver fox Muscled Leather chiseled Step-dad Grandpa Dominant Conqueror Ass devourer Fist ready Rosebud Cum bucket Tramp-stamped Bubble butt Gogoboy Rodeo sex hooker hoe Addict Runaways; Who really are… Read More In Defense of Sex-Crazed Hooker Hoes

Shelby Schultz 1. Exiting the bath, stepping on the mat, my raisin toes are a numb measure of foot to head, of steps to the ocean. I always think it’s only two too long red lights away but I don’t trust close  since Mandy, who could lip sync my anecdotes, confessed that she wished she… Read More Hell in High Water

Shelby Schultz All of her was hand-me-downs that didn’t quite fit like how she said “bless you” so politely it made me want to sneeze again. I remember the vacant stairs of her house, the lone death march to her room. How she wouldn’t come to the door; she wouldn’t greet me, meet me. Please… Read More Di Manes

Valérie Filloux This house is full of women. Hiking mountains of stairwells, hands banned from the railing, eyes forward; she takes place at every juncture of the glass. A moment you do not deserve to hear, a moment that hears too much, a fraction that stares up at eyes that slide over faces and make… Read More This house is full of women

Kandace Mack Don’t ask me why I dance girl. I do ‘cuz I must. I do ‘cuz it is. So you ought to dance, girl. Ain’t no room for us here We dance to be seen. So you better dance, girl. They like when we dance They like when we serve. So you need to… Read More Dance, Girl

Nick Corvino For this unsafe room full of dim light the ballerina’s pale shadow sprawls out into those romantic             wings of shame. The olive dimensions in those thin doll legs, the smooth grey pleasure in those hateful elephant eyes,             are more simple than… Read More Degas’s Room