Self Portrait by Cameron Gordon

This is a “self-portrait” I made in 2003. Obviously, something is not quite right. Under the guidance of my teachers, I put paint to construction paper and conjured up a portrait, not of myself, but of a white face I’d never known. It’s easy to chalk this up to wild childhood creativity and a limited … Read moreSelf Portrait by Cameron Gordon

I tell myself I’m not going to write another dead mom poem by Shareen K. Murayama

Nevertheless she arrives, promptly. In a care home fisted with careless bags of food or a spam musubi. A comfort offering in reverse. I start to write about letting greyhounds be dogs again, how it’s still legal to race dogs in four states. Can we even home those warehoused twenty-three hours a day? If I … Read moreI tell myself I’m not going to write another dead mom poem by Shareen K. Murayama

Pushed Out by Garrett D.G

“I love it up here.” She said as she gazed into the distance. Her legs dangled off the old brownstone’s roof edge. The air was stuffy. Usually, around this time, the neighborhood would be outside. The fresh smell of barbeque floating through the block, kids soaked under the sprinkling water bursting from the fire hydrant, … Read morePushed Out by Garrett D.G

HAIRCUT by Damien Belliveau

[an excerpt from “hella”] CW: This piece includes racial slurs I’d heard rumors of incoming freshmen getting hazed at Westmoor—everything from being rolled down hills in trash cans, to getting tied to metal poles so upperclassmen could smash your nuts with tether-balls. My source for this information was my best friend, Edwin Garro. The rumors … Read moreHAIRCUT by Damien Belliveau

Childhood Monsters by Matthew Marroquín

You’re laying alone in bed, and a chill consumes your body. You scan the room, fear creeping into your bones. A tingling sensation floods over your skin – as if you’re being watched by something, or someone. You can’t possibly fear the dark, no, it must be something else. You look across the room at … Read moreChildhood Monsters by Matthew Marroquín

Extraterrestrial Rays by Matthew Marroquín

For 20 minutes a day the sunlight caresses my skin, peeling off the numbness like the rind of a lemon. I’m stuck in this room. I cannot leave, for I am not allowed to. I wish they could put me in a room with bigger windows so I could see outside, see the sky, see … Read moreExtraterrestrial Rays by Matthew Marroquín

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