Tag: poetry

| By Megan M. Garr

[ Issue Issue #3 ]

The crowds

We arrived in crowds, and I said   I have already seen this. The crowds   made little homes at the tops of buildings   that sagged and the crowds   made ready for winter and hoped for the old   water in the canals to harden the boats and the trash   which I …

| By Megan M. Garr

[ Issue Issue #3 ]

The Mapmaker

The tram conductors will strike tomorrow— Efren buttoned the top of his coat and adjusted his scarf. With old men it is always politics or the past, and usually they are the same. The too-loud discussions closed as the door closed in the bar behind him. He crossed to the other side of the canal. …

, , | By MK Chavez

[ July 18, 2016 ]


I always knew that I would burn. I knew it even at eleven, standing in the Jehovah Hall  wearing a Pepto-Bismol pink crinoline dress, my fat-knobby knees rubbing that rough fabric, the itch of that crinoline dress and a forced smile.  The force upon me like damp fur. I could smell it, the danger of it, God, …

, | By Staff

[ May 4, 2016 ]

Selected Stories: May 4, 2016

  According to fiction writer Neil Gaiman, “Stories are like spiders, with all they long legs, and stories are like spiderwebs, which man gets himself all tangled up in but which look pretty when you see them under a leaf in the morning dew, and in the elegant way that they connect to one another, …

, | By Staff

[ April 21, 2016 ]

Selected Stories: April 21, 2016

  American writer Madeleine L’Engle told us, “Stories make us more alive, more human, more courageous, more loving.” Below are a few we found this week that force us to agree: An excerpt on Lit Hub from Melissa Broder’s upcoming book on love, marriage, sex, monogamy, and illness that, seriously, you can’t miss: “But we can’t freeze the way …

, | By Kaila Young

[ February 2, 2016 ]

New Day Tuesday: Today Means Amen by Sierra DeMulder

I didn’t cry when I watched The Notebook or Titanic, or at that part when Plato dies in Rebel Without a Cause. I didn’t cry for The Bell Jar or The Great Gatsby. But when I watched Sierra DeMulder perform at York College last Spring, I sobbed. It was one of those purifying, necessary sobs that had been …

, | By Kaila Young

[ January 29, 2016 ]

Christopher DeWeese Interview Part II: It’s Beautiful and It’s Also Really Sad

This is the second installation of a two-part interview with poet Christopher DeWeese; read part one here.     STORY: Can you talk about Alternative Music a bit more? How you are remixing the songs? DEWEESE: It’s hard, because the premise is I can only do this with songs that I remember well enough that I can …

, | By Kaila Young

[ January 11, 2016 ]

Our Finite Lives: A Review of Christopher DeWeese’s The Father of the Arrow Is the Thought

Artist Paul Klee said, “The father of the arrow is the thought: How do I expand my reach? Over this river? This lake? That mountain?” Let’s analyze that, the metaphor, the metatheory, the meta—or, let’s not. Instead, let’s look at the work of Christopher DeWeese, a poet from Ohio whose recent collection reflects the same theories that …

, | By Valerie Wetlaufer & Molly Sutton Kiefer

[ August 17, 2015 ]

Dear Dome of Impenetrable Darkness

Dear dome of impenetrable darkness— It is only fair I give you some glimpse of my own birth: that was the year the Andean volcanoes sent England magnificent weather: tides blasting against the shore, light dashed across the sky, the slant of rain coming down like a puppet’s strings. Mid-August, a comet smeared the inky …

, | By Christine No

[ February 23, 2015 ]


  My thighs touch too close for comfort. Hip bones buried in my sides, old handlebars or the bronze gates to a hungry woman. Pull, she says, come closer. I do not bleed, anymore I maneuver this daunting vessel and I am starved. Please, come closer. I want to disappear with the reptiles My large …