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A-Side, B-Side

Dylan Brown

He had kept the bulk of his music library, which covered every genre from obscure Sub-Saharan drum tracks recorded on cell-phones to honey-tongued R&B to Norwegian black metal, in his parents' basement. It was the only place, he had argued, that could support the weight of it all.


Poetry, Fiction, & Nonfiction   

Girl as Tautology

Jessica Hincapie

When I need my mother most I climb inside my mouth turn left at my incisor teeth turn right at the ghosts of both my grandfathers and find her dancing under the chandelier of my uvula.

Shoobie

Dinah Cox

Once, a long time ago, I knew a guy named Martin who did not like to be called Marty, though I'd heard another man, Charles, who himself allowed people to call him Chuck, call him Marty on several occasions.

Potatoes

Marcela Sulak

this once-heretical root, domesticated / for latkes. My calendar's terribly reduced.

Seasonal Without Spring: Summer

Andrés Cerpa

Was that season artery or vein? when the days stretched like Broadway, & the nights undid our shirts – the temperature so slight you could raise your arms in flight & feel nothing, the body as air. But there was also the need for hurt. And dusk: a ghost of a boy tempted to feel his weight, to put his palm to the depth, touch the pupil, the dead turbine of god’s one good cataracted eye.

From the Archives

Dear Cyntoia Brown

francine j. harris

I wonder when you push at mirrors, if they slip off in your hands. I would / like to hold you, who you were at sixteen with the you I was when I was / sixteen.

House on Toluca

Jesus De La Torre

Bars or no bars, if you did have something worth having, they’d take it, whether you were ridiculous about home security or not.

Town Day

Sierra Golden

he dials and dials his best half, / fingers moving like pretty / please, like knock on wood, like long / prayers, like rain dancers bright / in his loneliness who stomp

Excerpts from Katabasis Ex-Voto

Carla Faesler; Trans. Karen Lepri

We moved on low power since the noise neutralizers haven’t thawed from everything. We found rudimentary structures seemingly abandoned...

From the Blog

Dora Malech makes her entrance into experimental poetry

To “stet” is the act of making a textual change and then changing it back and so on and so forth. In the spirit of “stetting,” Stet also acts as…

You Are Here: An Interview with Eduardo Portillo

“When I built my first stretcher, it was like finding a big surprise. It let me reinforce what I had been doing with painting, which was playing around…