“Before we left the house, our mothers should’ve warned us of mirrors paginated like bibles. […] We run for the exit, but we’re really running for the interior kingdom of fossils.”
Excerpt taken from ‘Queerodactyl VI’ by Roy G. Guzmán.
The bone strokes my palm with leaves.
Poetry from Aria Misha Aber
Hide on you
The buildings turn from red to orange to purple.
Poetry from Sarah Jean Alexander
I pry open the horizon’s dark shell.
Poetry from Marci C. Cancio-Bello
An Interview with
We’re succeeding. We’re certainly not finished.
Feature from Taylor Campbell
Requiem for the Northern Forest
The hyacinth purples in the ice field.
Poetry from Sarah Escue
The Art of
I am a sponge so I soak up everything that I can.
Feature from Lori Evelyn
Someday, the place we call home will be emptied.
Poetry from Nooshin Ghanbari
She smeared her gloom on the outside walls.
Poetry from Roy G. Guzmán
The Line You Approach Infinitely
Each time close only half the distance.
Poetry from Laboni Islam
‘This Quintessence of Dust’
Cheer the beauty of retrograde motion.
Poetry from Jill Jones
Three Little Words
The reminder of a forest now abated.
Feature from Lillian Kalish
He will ask me about the red in the river of our name.
Poetry from Tariq Luthun
The bronze star points north but never resolves.
Poetry from Mia Ayumi Malhotra
Eight parts of crying on a bus
Everybody wants a sea of their own.
Poetry from Meghana Mungikar
Ribs tucked between fragile leaf and unseeded fruit.
Ficton from Alvin Park
The children’s atlas is all simulacra.
Poetry from Maggie Smith
One Day in the Life of
Art is so often undermined as labor.
Feature from Christopher Soto
Like snow in the hot desert sun.
Nonfiction from Vivian Wagner