“My notebook is half others and half me, and what I want to make is something in between. I pore and pour alternately, each informing the other, the sides flipping and curling like fortunes on my opening hands.”
by Emma Aylor
“My notebook is half others and half me, and what I want to make is something in between. I pore and pour alternately, each informing the other, the sides flipping and curling like fortunes on my opening hands.”
by Emma Aylor
“And every new year starts out the same way — ‘This year will be different.’”
by Allison Leow
“We are part echoes. Reverse of a regular
language, modal logic gisting down the alley.
All night I hear clairvoyance in the foyer, chanting
the lamps full. Onyx, coccyx, ingot of zinc.”
by Lindsey Hutchison
“She dreamed her skin
Was made of seaglass, sterling underneath,
That ‘sickness’ named was just another word
For ‘silver,’ the oil slick antidote
On her tongue, seeping.”
by Claire Friedman
“Sitting there in your armchair,
You may not move, but I know you
Melt.”
by Julia Goodman
“no
I want to nestle; wrestle
honeywasps; drown.”
by Meha Semwal
“Today I passed stunted boxwoods
pruned round, smelled the small leaves’ tang jammed
on overlapping panes of sky like fat citrine enamel
but I had to keep walking, scraping it from my fingernails.”
by Emma Aylor
