chased gold by Sam Park

there is gold in my veins;that is why i am considered a delicacy it seems not for all fools,but for fools with a fetish… they rush in my direction(simply for my complexion) and i endure it to protectthe vessel that reflects the inner flecks of delicate giltthat flake and flow beneath my flesh. my culture…

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misdiagnosis by Debasis Tripathy

Breaking the protocols, I enter this privileged world,Uninvited, and resolve to hang in here, just likeA famous madman who had adopted a godless religionAnd filled the white pages with sacred profanities. My condition is diagnosed as unreasonableness,And they prescribe a heavy dose of practicality;bitter pills, meant for midlife menopause. I protest,But I am pregnant with…

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A Ray of Hope by Victoria Acuna

Good Morning, The sun has risen again to find me laying in bed.Its rays beam through the curtainless windows,Oranges, yellows, and reds, all translucent and mystic,Fill the room with their dreamy hellos. Never seen a purer sight. What a day to have awoken to.Pure bliss floats through the air. Something good will surely arrive today.…

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!01011 by Elizabeth Nguyen

Why do I live in a wrld,Where my strengths are LIAbilities?I am now the dull boy.Where efficiency is GOLD,Long work hours as currency.Tell me my input/output,I run through the motions of !feeling,Hardened by the reality of life,Beaten down by what I could never be,The robot I am. Elizabeth is a current student at Stanford studying…

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THE SATANIC TEMPLE by Yusuf BM

Barely we own here“Here does not welcome us any longer”Mama purged out her shuddered voiceShrinking between her thighsAre verses of fear. “Who bears the sacrifice? The gods are ill”Father spread his dying palmsLike the morning spreading of a solitary palm tree under the advice of the wind. Here isn’t a home any longer;she’s become a…

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Lost Tongue by Violette Taylor

Spanish left our family tongue a fewgenerations ago, it was buriedwith my great-grandmother as shetried to make her children more palatable I feel it finding its way back to methrough the friends I meetand the music with a beatI can’t help but try to sing I can’t help but wonder what storieswill never get to…

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carnations by Miranda Magaña

somehowcarnations seem to find mesix feet below and behind me,in crystal vases,on the namesake of the streeton my skin,in the inkand now, in the granite stonewhere i never thoughtwe’d have to meet. Miranda Magaña is a self-taught artist born and raised in Oxnard, California. She graduated UCLA in 2021, majoring in Spanish and Portuguese &…

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