Category / Issue 06

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  • An Interview With Sharanya Manivannan

    The writing of Sharanya Manivannan is nuanced, evocative, and is unafraid to reimagine narratives. I have had the honor of having a conversation with Sharanya about poems, societal norms, resistance, and beyond.…
  • Land Formations Series – Erin Schalk

    Caverns Coulee Hibiscus Outcrop Remnant Riverbed Erin Schalk Erin Schalk is an artist, writer and educator living in the greater Los Angeles area.  She has exhibited artwork and published writing throughout the…
  • Hope They Call It Dakota – Cole Hersey

    Morning News 1 There was talk of a shooting that occurred five blocks from Cory’s home last night. Not a mass shooting, but a gunfight between two fellow gang members. Both shooters…
  • The Dolls of 12B – James R. Gapinski

    I. The woman in 12B claims to make living dolls. She sells them online and at flea markets. The dolls are not lifelike, per se. Just living. Alive. They get up and…
  • The One with Francis Ford Coppola’s Nephew – James Drew Siegel

    "So, which one did you decide on?" Taylor's question broke Kirk from his reverie. Kirk had been scrolling through the Nu-Vellum interface for almost an hour, unable to make up his mind.…
  • The Shapeshifting Hawthorn Tree – Chris Wright

    The Hawthorn Tree stands sentinel at the edge of the field; its crooked shape inked against a grey sky. It is the cusp of May and the bloom has frosted the branches…
  • The Red X – David Meischen

    Corpus Christi, Thursday, October 25, 1973 Frank claimed to be sorting out his study. He spent whole days in this space he’d converted from their sleeping porch, his books overflowing out of…
  • We Moved the Earth – Kelly Duarte

    When the kitchen was suspiciously lacking the sounds of popping oil and humming, we silently ventured down the stairs. Our mother caught the rising sun over Lake Isabel, leaning on the porch…
  • The Book of Snails – Natalie Solmer

    I love the dead, heavy feeling after the panic attack when the world fuzzes over its edges and calm buzzes down as invisible blanket. Somehow   I am alive in this life,…
  • Outside our old apartment in Jeddah, 2012 – Prem Sylvester

    All we wanted was a home.   My father sits in the driver's seat, unbent by desert winds. He tucks oil-stained riyals into his old wallet, its leather shorn of dignity. Each…