I am like the mango tree-the center spot for all, I wear my trauma in bliss, My feeble hands craft world, For am for all substance. We are like the tired wall soiled with mess, Our backs crack up at will, Yet we work for them that own us, Without a fathom of fault. I…
Read MoreDis jOY Nt hIm by Winston TL
sob L.A. haze allays my heart hurt in a daze caused by a comet [Gone bye] brain prays to malignant stars haywire Moon! align it? for me and him!?! BLAH. AH AH. “I find you very attractive – a good and sweet person …
Read More7 cycles by Kamana Rai
1. The glass of chrysanthemums — my mother tells me, cut the leaves off or take out the leaves from the stems with your hands. गोदावरी – will stay fresh in a vase of water for weeks. 2. If you look after anything well, it will show signs of prospering. In this sense, relationships of…
Read MoreConcreted Words by Fadrian Bartley
The metal door slams constantlywith noisy keys jingled throughtiny holes. Behind the door of hadesheartbeats linger with despair,and held on to memories they once hadto catch the morning sun, Wretched state behind redemption,and sorrowful thought sitsbeside a bucket containtheir own uric acid. waited shamefully for expulsionof colon loose canal which stinks the air,Orange suits unable…
Read MoreDisguises by Christine Hsu
I’m going to be a luchador for Halloween this year.Is it cultural appropriation or not?I got this cool cat luchador mask in Mexico City on vacation.It’s black with blues trimming with whiskers and pointed ears.I was excited to see a Japanese wrestler in the ringTugging, tossing and tumbling around with the Mexican wrestlers.Ten years ago…
Read MoreEmmett Till by Jeffrey Caliedo
Jackson, Mississippi is two hours away from Money, and still, the soil can be heard weeping. Secluded and consumed by encroaching ivy fingers, the decomposing Bryant’s Market has become a sign of the times. A marker of the past. But there are bullet holes in his memorial. And the boy is still plummeting. The body…
Read MoreThus Said Lee Hazan by Liora Hassan
Masterpiece- mixed paint (a shade without a name) I am the horned one, the loud and greedy imp I come from pogroms and shtetls and black market souvenirs Yellow rice, plantains, and a Wall Street Latino Old words; old like trees, old like hate Mispronounced faith, stolen and demonized every Jew you’ve ever met I…
Read MoreConfirmation by Jasmine Washington
Who knew that a little momentYou placing your arm around my waistWould send electricity up my spineHave butterflies fluttering in my stomachA quiet sigh of reliefA small smile fighting the urge to creep on my faceThat small moment was a confirmation,confirmation that you liked meConfirmation that we could cuddle andwatch a showConfirmation that I could…
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The Girl With The Blue Dress by Nour A.G.
Leila had a little blue dress. Leila’s dress was covered in white-blue flowers, and red stains. The day I met Leila I could imagine her smile and the lines on both sides of her cheeks announcing joy, but when I first saw Leila her face was not there. Where could it be? Under this war’s…
Read MoreTwo Poems by Dena Igusti
Dena Igusti is a queer non binary Indonesian Muslim writer and multimedia artist born and raised in Queens, New York. They are the author of CUT WOMAN (Game Over Books, 2020) and I NEED THIS TO NOT SWALLOW ME ALIVE (Gingerbug Press, 2021). They have received two play commissions at Players Theatre (SHARUM, 2019) and Center At West Park (CON…
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