On Being Mean A man walks up to me at the gas station air pump and tries to explain how to use the machine. I understand how to use the machine. When he won’t take the hint I get back in my car and he shouts, I don’t want to...Read More
Category: Online Exclusives
Rutvi Vakharia Paused Rutvi Vakharia comes from Rajkot, India. She recently pursued her BVA in painting from MSU, Vadodara. Her interests are architectural segments, abandoned architectures, and her surroundings in the midst of...Read More
Jia Jia Livable Lives Jia Jia is a multimedia artist. She works primarily in installation and incorporates sculpture, video, and performance. Her practice uses satire and humor to imagine everyday objects anew. She earned her...Read More
October blows dust, summer long gone into a dark barn like a hiding lover. Autumn buries my life as the heavy, fallen leaves and first hard frost choke the grass. My lover loves me and grants me my loneliness beneath a...Read More
Dec 27th, and it’s already light so much later. It’s then I realized I missed winter solstice — no chance to celebrate the longest night of the year; still consumed in the everything-grief of my Deerhound, dead at...Read More
(family homestead, Bath New York) I lift the old wooden fold-out chair from the shed. Its canvas cover is faded. I can still make out stripes of orange, yellow, red, with a thin line of royal blue every now and then. We...Read More
Just me …………..The Joshua trees And the Milky Way (no light pollution) No noise polluting the tramways of my brain It all runs through me Sets my nerves to cackling like crows atop birch trees...Read More
Her brown curls heaped on the pillow, the comforter sprawled below her breasts. She fled into her magazine. For a minute, motionless, he stood. Starlings chattered in the walnut tree. *………. *...Read More
Dear White people, To whom it may concern, I am writing to you not as an “angry Black woman” or as an angry person of color but as a young, scared Black woman and as a young, scared person of color. I am writing this...Read More
The stork does not fly over my home. It is empty and abandoned. It is sticky and thick. It is barren. I’ve watched babies, in their baskets, slip from my body into the fresh white bowl. Pink water swirls away in a hypnotizing...Read More
The Woman Sitting Across Me On The Subway is made of clay and she keeps sweating, making the entire car smell like earth and salt and change. She unwraps her shawl and reties it around her head to keep its domical shape, but the...Read More
…….Striding with purpose into his smallest but most carefully monitored laboratory, Adelmo picked a bit of microscopic lint off his pristine lab coat and flicked it away. …….German by birth,...Read More
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