Watching myself fall for the same traps as the people who put me here is the ultimate let down. To think you were meant to be better than them, To think you were meant to amount to more. Who gave you this false hope? The person cast in the role of breaking the cycle Cracks … Read moreThe Ultimate Let Down by Devon Hulick
/*! elementor – v3.9.0 – 06-12-2022 */ .elementor-widget-image{text-align:center}.elementor-widget-image a{display:inline-block}.elementor-widget-image a img[src$=”.svg”]{width:48px}.elementor-widget-image img{vertical-align:middle;display:inline-block} I’m going back to Puerto Rico where my voice sounds right by Dariana Pérez (inspired by Danez Smith) o Minnesota, your blinding snow tempts us who grew up with only a five-degree difference between seasons, but have you ever stood with the … Read moreI’m going back to Puerto Rico where my voice sounds right by Dariana Perez
/*! elementor – v3.9.0 – 06-12-2022 */ .elementor-widget-image{text-align:center}.elementor-widget-image a{display:inline-block}.elementor-widget-image a img[src$=”.svg”]{width:48px}.elementor-widget-image img{vertical-align:middle;display:inline-block} soledad a las dos de la mañana by Dariana Pérez eyes crystalized. beat-beat: breathe. awake at the name of the lover who won’t be. stomach turning from hunger and longing, fingers furiously typing, willowy heart sing-songing, journal entries pile thoughts of … Read moresoledad a las dos de la mañana by Dariana Pérez
I would not write this, if not for the voices that turned my head into a village square, dancing the elegies of my sister. the metaphors here, have melted the ice on my tongue. and I found my voice reciting the last collection of my sister; I’ll paint my neck with color notes and turn … Read moreA Sister Who Paints Her Neck With Color Notes by Yahuza Abdulkadir
come. there’s something i want to show you, helena. just a bit farther will do. past the fence where those white trumpet flowers have started to bloom and weave into each other like lovers’ hands. where spring melds into summer like pigments of a watercolor gradient syncretizing. come. ma will bid you good morning and … Read moreanswers to unuttered questions by Anna Feng
Dear Cixous, If women write through their bodies, May I write? I have a woman’s soul In a man’s body Coarse and reeky like an old footwear’s sole. I have got a voluptuous soul Subjected to the burdens of masculinity. Therefore, I wear rationale and chivalry To … Read moreMay I Write? by Mahek Khwaja
The subconscious, where migraines start. Their genealogy is a vehicle, a hearse, where the dregs of peace converge to attend their funeral at a psychiatric hospital. When you close your eyes, the remains of your past – in the tomb – water themselves, sprouting and collaging into the present. A migraine on the other end … Read moreA Migraine by Salma Maburya
I’ll write you while I have time. Freedom is In the ether and feels far from here and further than anything attainable. It’s nearing 70 degrees and these are the months where buds decorate the streets that lead us home. Petals and fresh pavement carry me far like caravans, or the sound of your voice. … Read moreWhile I Have Time by Jefferson Charles
I know love the way I know how to swim. Meaning I do not, but I am open to learning again. Love was drowning and praying that someone would pull you out from beneath the waves. While physically unscathed, I fear that the nightmares do more than keep me awake. I learned to never let … Read moreWhat I Know of Love by Marie by Louise Naomie
/*! elementor – v3.9.0 – 06-12-2022 */ .elementor-widget-image{text-align:center}.elementor-widget-image a{display:inline-block}.elementor-widget-image a img[src$=”.svg”]{width:48px}.elementor-widget-image img{vertical-align:middle;display:inline-block} Sargassum by Louise Kim if i can’t keep my head above water,at least i have the fish to watch.hiding between leaves of seagrass,they dart by, free. sargassum floating above me,brown bouquets of the sea.clumps of vines, leaves,round beads of air to stay afloat. … Read moresargassum by Louise Kim