Read “Variations on Ophelia” by Alexa Derman [PDF]
About the author:
Alexa Derman is a high school senior from New Jersey where she lives with her blue typewriter, Quinn. Her work is featured in Hanging Loose, Winter Tangerine Review, The Adroit Journal, and elsewhere. In her other incarnations, she paints faces and attempts to survive AP Physics.
1. Yesterday, I drove under an exit ramp and past a boy who might have been a hunchback. He curled around the edges like leaves, like paper before it burns. We were moving in the same direction but I left him and his deliberateness pass.
2. I knew a woman once, in a wheelchair, who smoked four packs of American Spirits a day. She said it made her seem less separate. We would loiter on the sidewalk during lunch breaks, she smoking and I watching the ashy embers fall.
3. Once, a woman on crutches fell, knees and
» Continue reading Two Prose Poems by Reem Abu-Baker…
Hummel #1963: Sylvia Plath Hummel Height: 3.1”
Her goldilocks slither like a silk scarf around her lithe neck. She kneels, tightbodiced navy and white polka-dot dress. Her lunar hands, are poised over a bright red Olivetti, as if seeking or as if about to write the next poem, chapter, everything slack.
Hummel #45: The Confidence Artist Height: 2.36”
Underestimate her cumulous bangs a la Madonna of Perpetuate Material Peter Pan, and you’ll miss her stinger, tucked beneath her flounce. Her eyes are lined brilliant violet, but she is anything but open. She wears a simple bias cut, and carries
» Continue reading Hummels by Lily Hoang and Carmen Gimenez Smith…
Listen to a reading of “I’ll join you in the graveyard, if I can do my banking there” by TJ Lyons.
The future isn’t cancelled, right? Long as I keep dipping my face I know that there is purpose. Living like a light bulb at the mercy of a twist. Let’s tattoo ourselves with a tree branch till we are murals of leaves injected with bark and mystery. Living like a bug under a pivoting boot. Deposit some bones if you want, for safekeeping. Call it a long-term investment, long-term digestion. As long as you agree, I’ll keep folding these
» Continue reading I’ll join you in the graveyard, if I can do my banking there by TJ Lyons…
Read “Marriage: A Math Lesson Plan” by Caitlin M. Smith [PDF]
About the author:
Caitlin M. Smith is a twenty-six-year-old living in Boston with a degree in both math and creative writing. This story is her most successful attempt to merge the two fields, as well as her first published piece. Caitlin works in publishing where she is known for bringing in pies on March 14th.
The Needle Vibrates
The needle vibrates on some kind of spinning material. The air is cut by sound, shot through a tube, and tenderly transfixed to wax. The violence is minimal, or at least microscopic – a tiny needle gouges a revolving surface that has space for a certain amount of grooves.
How was it so simple to record a sound? The machine simply captured what was already in the air. Vibrations. Yet we confuse like with like, vibrations with feelings, wax with plastic. A surface soft enough to be carved, allowing for a notch that holds the vibration in
» Continue reading Recorded Music by Andy Peyrie…
SWEET HAIRCUTS RULE
I fixate on the small-perfect hairs aligned on your scalp and finger bang myself to sleep. In my head I haze you as part of your initiation to be in my body. There’s a puddle of ceiling that seeps through a mattress & leaks into a possibility & thank God we’re still young. My hands arch intensely to a composition of my functioning body and an ex’s mixed cd.
WE WOKE UP LEAN
I smoke gently on your chest. We were careful not to wake the kids & goodbye with a handshake & my skeleton is trapped
» Continue reading Three Prose-Poems by Amanda Deo…
I Lie In A Way That Knows Me
The first sentence is a labyrinth. What’s here—or was—is a kitchen sex mirror, knifed breathing. She’s reading a train on time; reading a time on a train. There are eyebrows in quotations regarding the softest instances of your mouth.
I ask for an ask. The second sentence begets. This is wandering & we’ll pre-order fuck you. Flashes swim as they may.
We See Films
This sentence is a state on the rise. Six minutes before eleven begins We’re ones in slept math. I begin, you rise. Vegetables are less fucked
» Continue reading I Lie In A Way That Knows Me by Parker Tettleton…
She was a newborn sky; cloudless and starless. Not even a sun—just the faint outline of a moon too shy to sing. She apologized for everything and laughed at nothing. There were days she would stitch and unstitch her lips, the dancing needle and thread like dandelion dust in the wind. Her smile, though the sides would anchor, was a tidal wave. I loved to drown. She explained how when beaches catch fire, the sand turns to glass and we can see hell burning below. “I have the blisters to prove it.” I asked if that was why she stared
» Continue reading I am starless by Jackie Cope…
Read “Public Toilet Safety for Women” by Nina Pratt [PDF]