Poetry
Queer Liberation
Christopher Soto
Bought a T-shirt with Sylvia Rivera’s face Spent $50 to hear heterosexuals sing at Pride Walked quickly past the unhoused Clutching my Telfar leaving my Tesla I’m ...
Selected Poetry
Diorama 1871 (Head Resting Against a Lace Antimacassar)
I don't get to be the same person each time, but still, think of all the atrocities I've climbed out of. It helps to carry a rope. I sound ominous but what I'm saying ...
Super Bloom
America, like a monstrous sow vomiting cars and appliances into a green ooze resembling dollar bills, where is my America? Agnostic and uninsured, I eat celery, onions, and ...
Golden
Everything will be fine, to paraphrase the anchoress, and everything will be golden, like a crock of manuka honey or hand-picked Bartlett pear, or like the ...
Dream with Gun and Five-Year-Old Daughter
Hours before the divorce was final, the day the divorce became final, I woke, knowing the dream I had just dreamt could not be touched, the dream in which my daughter took the ...
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Poetry
16
Ocean Vuong
I was a goner, they said. Oh well. Could’ve been worse. Could’ve been born before they dug up all the words. & we’d just stand around trying not ...
Poetry
Excerpt: When the Arab Apocalypse Comes to America
George Abraham
Shall I condemn myself a littlefor you to forgive yourself —Fady Joudah, […] I condemn the blooded river that became a sea we cannot crawl out of. I condemn the ...
Poetry
Structure
Margaret Ross
Walking back I pass a block-long dune of rubble and the man whose job it is to shovel it. An iron rectangle he’s nestled in debris makes a little door he’s ...
Poetry
Mnemonic Device
Benjamin Garcia
Poetry
On Voice
Ruben Quesada
Poetry
Sabbatical
Eduardo C. Corral
Poetry
Olive Oil Cake and a Raspberry
Taneum Bambrick
It’s Wednesday night in California. We sit on metal chairs, which shriek like helicopter blades clattering across the cement of a repurposed parking ...
Poetry
College
Monica Sok
She senses that I’m surviving so she doesn’t want to bother me. When she calls me, I whisper, I’m in the library, and we don’t talk for days. It’s my fault that I forget ...
