A man who drinks between my long white columns/
tastes history: the first time I/ touched my breasts,/
then below, when I changed into an/ ocean from a dam—/
my belly a sculptor of people, fed by/ the milk-springs/
of my mountains. Continue reading
A man who drinks between my long white columns/
tastes history: the first time I/ touched my breasts,/
then below, when I changed into an/ ocean from a dam—/
my belly a sculptor of people, fed by/ the milk-springs/
of my mountains. Continue reading
Certainly doubt can be a refuge, especially when a ray of light is beyond my reach. Continue reading
Which country do you love more?
The question asked of each one of us
young travelers of the diaspora,
children with shiny shoes and English textbooks. Continue reading
Our poetry editor for May and June is Yasmin Belkhyr. Yasmin is a writer and you might remember her work from issue 1. She was born in Morocco, grew up in NYC, and now writes poetry about honeydew and lightning in South Africa. You can find more of her work in PANK, Hobart, Word Riot, … Continue reading
Living On, a prose sonnet Indian Canyon, Agua Caliente Reserve 1992 From a waterfall 12 feet straight down, into two feet of water 2. Swept off like leaves ready to die 3. Never thought about death then. Never thought about life then. All the same to me 4. Carried to safety by a Paiute, a … Continue reading
Stephen Hawking Warns Artificial Intelligence Could End Mankind There is no algorithm to explain away suffering or to reanimate the skitter a leaf makes as it crosses a boyhood memory of idleness, and the most disturbing part of the brain turned positronic is that indolence would dwindle or be rewritten with code, but … Continue reading
she taught you how to wriggle your hips until
the boys curdled like sour milk, told you tangency was just another
way of touching yourself. Continue reading
Rumor is this devastates men. Continue reading