Wewouldliketobeginbyconveyingourimmeasurablegratitudeforthelove shown for Issue 1. The overwhelming support we received from the creative communityfarexceededourexpectations,andwehopeourreaderswereableto connectwithitaswell.
Issue2hasmarkedaperiodofgreatgrowthforusasamagazine.Wereceived overtwiceasmanysubmissionsasIssue1,coveringadiverserangeofmediums includingpainting,photography,andcollages.Aswehavecontinuedtogrowour community,wehavegainedinvaluableinsightintotheworkthatgoesinto creatingart,aswellastheimmensebeautyfoundinthevulnerabilityonlyart canimpart—thebeautyofimperfection.
OurgorgeouscoverartbyDaniloCiceroencapsulatesthevirtuallytransportive qualityinherenttoallgoodart:eachandeveryoneofthepiecesincludedinour secondissuedeeplyresonatedwithus,justaswehopetheywillconnectwithyou.In thesamewayastoryisnevertrulyover,apaintingneverfullyfinished,our communitywillconstantlygrowandevolve,ebbingandflowinginanunending journey.FromtheanguishdepictedinAnastasiaDzupina’sartwork,tothepride shown in Keanu Dos Santos’ photography, to the unbridled bliss of George Espinoza’spoetry,weinviteyoutoembarkonthisjourneywithus.
Thankyouforreading,andwehopeyouenjoy!
CameronandTaylorCalonzoThanishaChowdhury
DaniloCicero
IdaDerczyńska
MadzDeRose
AnastasiaDżupina
GeorgeEspinoza
AnayancyEstacio
MeganFinegan
YasminGoshen
LlywelynLee
HunterMayo
MahikaMukherjee
ArefehOzgoli
KeanuDosSantos
TeddySui
WilliamTaylor
BarkerThompson
PragyaTomer
CaitlinWalton
CameronCalonzo
TaylorCalonzo
HeavenKim
DaniloCicero
Thisisthewayweinheritabsence:piecebypiece.Limbfrom limb.Wristsdappledinbruises,lightshardedunderpaperskin, ourmouthspressedagainstthecuspofsummer.Grasssheathed itselfingoldthatyear,whenthecicadasshriekedourporchesraw, thesolesofourfeetsplittingopenonrazor-sharpwings.Itoldyou— thisisnowaytofly.Arobinisred-breastednotfromblood,but deprivation.Thefoggedbreathsofourbreaths,featheredlittlethings, flutteringagainstpavement.Youarenotmorethanthefingersyoucup aroundflame.Nothingbleedsbrighterthanaravenholdingadeath initsthroatandwhenIsayIamlosingmyselftoyouImeanItore afeatherfrommycollarthismorningtoleavebyyourbed,hollowshaft smolderingwhereitsatundermyskin.Goon,then.Becauseyou knowthesedelightsonlylastaslongastheyhavespacetofill.Because theonlydifferencebetweenahandandatalonishowlongittakesto molt.
d e v e l o p s h i s a r t t h r o u gh dgi i t a l d e s gi ,n a l t h o u gh h e i s i n t e r e s t e d i n e v e r yth i n g r e l a t e d t o v i s u a l a r t .
y e a r s o f a g ,e h e h a s w o r k e d w i t h n a t i o n a l a n d i n t e r n a t i o n a l a r t i s t s o f g r e a t i m p o r t a n c e . H e c u r r e n t yl
a n a l o g w o r k s s i n c e 2 0 1 ,4 h e i s a n a r t i s t w i t h a c l e a r a u t o n o m o u s a n d s e l ft a u gh t t r a j e c t o r y . A t 2 3
D a n i l o C i c e r o w a s b o r n i n t h e c iyt o f A v e l l a n e d,a B u e n o s A i r e ,s i n 1 9 9 9 . H e c r e a t e s dgi i t a l a n d
I d a D e r c z ńy s k a s p e c i a l i z e s i n f i e l d r e c o r d i n g s a n d v i d e o i n s t a l l a t i o n s . I n h e r a r t i s t i c w o r k, s h e d r a w s i n s ip r a t i o n f r o m t h e t h e m e s o f m e m o r y a n d a r c h i v e s . I n J u n e o f t h i s y e a r, s h e w i l l g r a d u a t e f r o m h e r p h o t o g r a p hy s t u d i e s . S h e i s a n e n t h u s i a s t o f n o i s e m u s i c a n d e v e r ty h i n g t h a t i s e v e n r e m o t e ly s i m i l a r i n c o l o r t o t u r q u o i s e . Y o u c a n f i n d h e r o n i n s t a g r a m i@ d a d e r c z y n s k a .
Aroundthepricklypines wherered-tailedfoxesburrowandbarredowlsperch, yourhandsrufflethroughmonth-oldreceiptsinyourbag, fingeringlibrarycards,creditcards,oxidizedpennies
untilyouglanceupward,andspotyouruncollaredlabrador leapinginthegrasslands.Youobserveyourhusky
hurrying,hurtlingafteranelevatedhot-airballoon aroundorangetoynowinflatedandflung.
Thealmost-deadphonedoesn’tvibrate,yetyourfingernails scratchitshardbackpolycarbonatecase;yourpalmssteady forapulse,anudge,agrazingtouchthatyouoverlook yourdalmatian’sdashontoahiker’strail.
Sunglassesshimmeronyourcap’svisor. Folkspluckblueberrybushes, andunloadaxesoutoftheirsmoke-fumingtruck. Oneswing.Twonicks.Threehacks
whittletheneckofanevergreen’strunk.Theconifer’sfellingishushed byanoff-key,metallicjangle
blaringinyourhand yourkeychain’slanyard, likeawindmill,spinsonyourindex
untilasedan’sswitchbladereddensyourknuckles. Youforgettheworld,andonlyseecarefreecorgisrollingovergrass.
Theskywasthecolorofdirtywater.Shaynawatchedthewavesasshesatonthe beach.Shehopedthesoundofthetideswouldeitherbringherintofocusorallow hertodriftoff.Goingtothebeachonadismaldaymadeherfeelsimilartoherlong driveswiththeradiooff,thoughthesoundoftheroadelicitsdifferentthoughts thanreactingtothelatestgenericpophit.Thegraveldidnotforcehertothinkany morethanthewavesdid.Bothjustgaveherthespaceto.WhenShaynathought, shedidnotfeel.
Withhereyesontheocean,shecouldhearthesoundofthesandshiftingandknew thatherhusbandhadsettledbesideher.Shestayedquietwithhereyesstillfixedon thetides.
“Ithoughtyouhatedthesoundofwaves.YoumadeAlexaturnitoffduring bedtimeonce,”Genesaid.
“ItmademefeellikeIwasdrowning.Abittooterrifyingwhenyou’retryingto sleep,butI’mclearlyoutofthewaterhere.”
“Youwereoutofthewaterinbedtoo.”
“Notwiththeoceanlampyoubought.”
“Ah,”Genemuttered,rememberingthathehadfoundthelampatayardsaleand thoughtitwouldaddtothe“ambience”oftheevening.Thelampprojectedpictures offishandturtlesonthewalls,anduponseeingitShaynawasnotsurprisedthe ownerswantedtogetridofit.
“Whereisthatlampanyway?”heaskedher.
“It’sinthelivingroomnow,ifyou’reimplyingIdumpedit.”
“No,no.Ijustforgot.”Genesaidbeforeliftinghismugofcoffeetohislips.
Shaynahadnotlookedawayfromtheshorefortheirentireconversation.Genedid notfindthisoddasheknewhiswifetooftenleavefarawaybesidehim.
TheysattheretogetherwiththesoundoftheoceanbetweenthemasGene continuedtosipfromhismug.Shaynacouldnotseewhathewasdrinkingoutof andbegantowonderifhestolethemugfromtheAirbnb.
“Iwatchedthismovie,”Shaynafinallysaid,“Wherethisguystayedatahoteland thenIthinkhekilledhimselfatthebeach.”
“JesusShayna,that’ssomerealpolitemorningconversation.”
“No,ImeanthatIdon’tknowifhedid.Idon’tthinkthathedid.”
“Wellhowdoyounotknow?Didthemovienottellyou?”
“It was one of those artsy things. Like they don’t tell you. It's the author's interpretation.”
“Youmeantheviewer'sinterpretation.”
“Oh,yeah.Yeah.”Shaynasaid,nodding.
Theywentbacktoquiet.Genetookanothersipofhiscoffeeasheobserveda seagullflyingabove.Hewonderedifseagullstypicallyflewaloneorinpairs.Or maybeonlyswansswiminpairs.Didswansswiminpairs?
“Well,anywayIwasonlyhalfwatching.”
Genenoddedagain.
“Youknow,InevertoldyoubutIhadanex.Beforeyou,ofcourse.Quiteawhile before.ButIhadanexwhotriedtocommitsuicide,”Shaynastarted.Genelooked ather.Herplacidfacewasstillgazingatthewaterbuthereyesweresomewhere different,deepinamemory.
“Hedidn’tsucceedbutyouknowIneverknew.OrImeanInevernoticedhewas, youknow,thatwayuntilhewasinthehospital.AndIvisitedhim.AndIdidn’t feelguiltyfornotnoticing,atthetime.Atthatmoment,Iwasjustscared.Ijust wantedhimtobeokay.AndIknewIcouldn’tmakehimokaybutIjust oh,I don’tknow,”Shaynasaid,hereyesfinallybreakingfromtheshore.Shelooked downatashellscallopGenehadjustnoticedwasinherhands.Sheoftenlooked downwhenshewasnervous.Hehadfirstnoticedthatwhentheymet.Hewould visitherofficetoaskifsheneededanythingbeforeheheadedoutandshewould lookattheclockwhileanswering.Hefirstthoughtitwasbecauseshewasannoyed byhim.Reallyitwasbecauseshewastoonervoustomeethisgaze.
“Ohc’monShay.Peoplearen’tthelatestbitofmediatoanalyze.Justbecauseyou canfigureoutwhenacharacterisgoingthroughsomethingdoesn’tmeanyoucan figureoutwhenapersonis.Peoplearedifferent.Youcan’tgettendifferentmedia critiquesorinternalthoughtsorwhateveritistheydo.”
“ButIdidn’tknowthatcharacterwassuicidal.Ididn’tevennotice‘tilIreada reviewofthemovietheotherday,”Shaynasaid,nowtwirlingtheshellinher fingers.
“Shay,itwasamovie.C’mon.”Geneputhishandonhiswife’sshoulder.Shestill fiddledwiththeshellbutwaslookingbackattheoceannow.Shemadeafacethat Geneknewmeantshewasannoyedbytheconversationandwantedtomoveonso helethergoandlookedattheoceanhimself.
ThewavesweredarkandstormyandremindedGeneofthestoryofthefisherman and his wife. In the story, the ocean got darker and darker as the fisherman desperatelywantedtomakehiswifehappy.Hereturnedbacktothemagicfishof theseaeverytimeandbeggedthem,“Ifonly,ifonly.”Ormaybethatwassome otherstory.ThatpartsoundedwrongwhenGenethoughtaboutit.
Thetwoofthemlookedattheoceanforminuteslonger.Itwasearlyinthe morningandtherewerenotmanypeopleonthebeachtoobserve,evenifthey wantedto.Genetookanothersipofhiscoffee,whichwasgettingcoldnow.He wishedhehadbroughthisthermosbutheleftitathome,sohewouldhavetobe satisfiedwithaWinniethePoohmugfromtheAirbnb.
“It’snotyourfault,youknow,”Genefinallysaid,breakingthesilence.
Shaynasatthere,hershouldersmovingupanddowninawaythatGenewasnot sureifitwasashrug.
“Didyouhearme?It’snotyourfault.”Genesaidmorefirmly,lookingascloseashe couldintoShayna’seyesathisangle.
“Yeah,IheardyouRobinWilliams,”Shaynasnapped,finallylookingathim. “Ohc’mon!Iwastryingtohelp!Beingagoodhusbandandall,”Genesaidas Shaynastartedtorise.
“Ohyes.Veryoriginal.Quotingamovie,”Shaynasaidasshereachedherhandout toherhusband.
“Ohwell,youweretheonetalkingaboutmoviesearlier.Iwasjusttryingto—”
“Alright,alrightoldman.Youhelped.Youhelped.”
Genestartedshakingthesandoffhispantswhilehiswifewalkedinfrontofhim, stretchingherarms.
“Truthfullyyouinterruptedmybreathingexercisesbefore.Iwashavingagood meditation,”Shaynasaidlookingbackathimasherarmsstretchedtohersideina T.
“Oh,youandthosebreathingexercises.”
“Comejoinme,oldman,”Shaynasaid,grabbinghimbyhisarmsandmovinghim besideher.Shesmiledashemovedgrufflybutshecouldtellhewasinaplayful mood.
“Ididn’tevengettofinishmycoffee.”
“Oh,hush!C’mon.We’llbreatheinforfour,breatheoutforfour.”
“Ibetternotgetlightheaded.”
“Oh,youhushnow.C’mon.Breathewithme,”Shaynadirected,herhandsonher abdomennow.
“Howmanydidyousay?”Heasked.
Hereyeswerealreadyclosedasshebegantobreathe.Thesoundoftheoceanwasin frontofherassheletthesaltyairintohernostrils.Shebreathed,inandout.Inand out.Inandout.
AnayancyEstacioisamiddleschoolteacherfromNorthCarolina.Whenshe isnotadedicatedteachertoherstudents,sheisadedicatedmothertohercat, Chicken.YoucanfollowheronInstagramandTwitter@yancyestacio.
h e r w o r ,k t a k e a p e e k a t h e r i n s t a g r a m @ m e g a n . f i n e g a n .
t a l k i n g t o pl a n t,s s h e c a n b e f o u n d o n t h e s h o r e s o f L a k e S u p e r i o r l o o k i n g f o r s e a gl a s s . T o s e e m o r e o f
c o m m u n iyt , a n d h o w h u m a n s e x p e r i e n c e t h e n a t u r a l w o r l d . W h e n n o t d r e a m i n g u p m u r a l s o r
a s a c r e a t o r a n d a n u r s e . I n t e r e s t e d i n c a p t u r i n g t h e d i v i n iyt o f m e m o r y , h e r w o r k a l s o e x pl o r e s
M e g a n F i n e g a n ( s h e / h e r ) i s a v i s u a l a r t i s t b a s e d i n D u l u t ,h M N w h e r e s h e ( t r i e s t o ) b a l a n c e h e r t i m e
YasminGoshen(18),USA
latelyihavebeen starving&desperatefor anythingmorethanyour smalltalk.youusedto tellme everything, whenyou’renotherei feelitlikehot smoke inmythroat.likethe tightgripoftwohands crushingmywindpipe.when you ’renotherei takemyself out forwalkssoidon’tslipup thestairsandintoyour emptybed.
iletmyselfimagine thegivingin: drowning incloveoil,menthol,the incensesticksyouburn afterasmoke;thesaunaof yourduvetandthesense memoryofsweat pooling inthesmallofmyback.and theshockofyourcoldhands downmyspine.itmeans everything.
butiputonmybootsand theglovesyourmothermademe. istaycold.ileave.icut throughthecemeteryand playgameswiththeepitaphs. rememberthedatewhere wegothighandwalkedthrough thegravestones,settingdown tealightsatrandom,and turningback tosmile ateachother.
thatwasbeforewewere honest.andyoulovedmebut weretooafraidtosayit. whenistillhadyouconvinced wewerethesame.doyou stillcarewhy?i’moutforhours, dizzy inthememoryofyou, thephantomtwitchofyour handinmineasthesunsets. backhome,icheckforthelight underyourbedroomdoor. what’skeepingyouup,thistime? i’vebeenholdingfastto anythreadyougiveme.i’vebeen weavinganewblanketto getburiedunder.i’vebeen turningback tosmile
L ly w e ly n L e e i s a W e l s h p o e t w h o s e w o r k f o c u s e s o n m e n t a l i l l n e s s, q u e e r i d e n t ity a n d t h e d i v i n ity i n t h e e v e r y d a y . T h e y h a v e b e e n p u b l i s h e d i n t h e l i k e s o f V e l v e t F i e l d s, P o e t i c a l ly , G r i m e P r o p h e t a n d S a v i n g
D a ly ig h t . Y o u c a n f i n d t h e m t a k i n g o u t t o o m a n y l i b r a r y b o o k s a n d f e e d i n g s t r e e t ip g e o n s .
Theyhadheardstoriesthatitwasmorecommoninthenorth.Somethingabout thecoldsomehowcultivatedgrowth,encouragedtheinculcation.Therewere clustersofreportscomingfromacrosstheCanadianborder,followinginflurries downintoMontanaandWyoming.Radiostaticmostly,butconsistentenoughin trendtowarrantatleastsomeweight,somepurchase,anditisbettersafethan sorry,really,sotheyturnsouth.Bootscakedwithmud,bandagesbrowningatthe edgesandstartingtostinkfromsweatanddirtandweeks-oldblood.Theydon’t evengivehertimetowashthebloodcrustingunderneathherfingernailsbeforeitis timetopackupagain.
Sheishalf-sickanddeliriousbythetimetheyfinallystopagain.Thewaterpreserves aredryingup,theysay.Waterbottlesbreakingfromoveruse,plasticgonesoftfrom beingpassedtotoomanyhandsovertime.Theolderonesdecidewheretheyareis goodenough,deepinthewoods,layeredinwaveafterwaveofgreen.Betterto clingtowhatisfamiliarthanrisktheunfamiliar,theysay.Traditionmustbe maintained.Shedoesnothaveitleftinhertofightthemanylonger.
Instead,sheisquiet.Eatsherrationsandherprotestsoneandthesame,spendsher timeinhermother’stentanddoesnottrytoconvinceherthattheyarerunning outoftime.Thereareprayers,memoriesofatimeshecannotrememberand whisperedoverabowlofcrushedincenseandassortedrosarybeads,elasticbands longsnappedsincesometimebeforethemainelectricgridhadgonedown.They arethesameprayersshehasheardforyears,practicedinanefforttocoaxforth somedivinesympathythatwillleadthemsomewherewarmer,somewherewith plentifulwater,somewherewheretheinfectiondoesn’tspreadsoquickly.They have long since stopped praying for deliverance, stopped asking for answers, stoppedbelievingthattherewillbesomeendtothis.
Hermotherleansintoherheadonhershoulder,andshecanfeelhervoicevibrate againstherupperarm,feelsitwashdowntheexpanseoffleshandsinkin.Shetries tofindcomfortinit,buttherhythmofitsitswaxyinsideofher.Instead,she squeezesherfist,feelshernailspressintothemeatybaseofherpalm,andfocuses onherownheartbeat.Shefeelsthepulseofitinherjoints,countsitsteadily.She
reachesthreehundredandtwenty-sevenheartbeatsbeforetheprayersceasetheir murmur.Morethanthenightbefore.Theyaregettingscared.Thehymnsfollow next,lowandchalkyandsweeping.Shesighs,scrapesthetoeofhershoeagainst thedirttwice,andturnsaround.
Theirvoicesfollowherawayfromthecampfireandbackintohertent,pressed hard into the cold ground. The hymns warble after her, prayers soft and thrumming,warpedbythewind.Distorted,almost,echoingoffthehillsaround themandpulsingbackagainsther.Again,shesqueezeshernailsintothemeatof herpalm.Hard,thistime.Desperatetofeeltheskinbreak,feelthetensionofit growandfinallysnap.Itdoesn’ttakeherlong.Sherealizessheneedstocuther nails. Whensleepfinallyreachesher,itiswroughtwithgrowth-dreams.Theyalldo.An inescapablesideeffectoftherot.Thatiswhattheycallthemnow:growth-dreams. Nightmaresturnedsoftandmilky,reekinglikemildewandrot,runnylikeegg yolks.Asupercutofcrystallizationmadeflesh,overripeandswollenandbulging andscreamingoverandoverandoveragain.Theyarethekindofdreamsthatleave herskinsweat-slick,leaveherhairstringyandmattedtothebaseofherneck.They arethekindofdreamsthatspilloverintothewaking,sitintheairinhalfglimmeringmemories.Thekindthatjoltsherawake,fingersrakingoverherskinin anefforttorevealsomeabnormalitythatwouldindicateinfection.Anodd-shaped bruiseshewouldn’trememberreceiving.Ahardeningspotpressingupagainstthe surface of her skin from underneath. Anything that would be enough of a confirmationofherfate,thatshewouldenduplikeoneofthem.
Hideousthings,truly.Sharp,distorted,andbroken.Skinsplitatthecreases,pulled tautuntilfinallyforcedtogivewayandrevealthescrapingcrystalstructures underneath,curvinguphideously,conspiringtowardsthesun.
Bloodspatteredaroundthewounds,longdriedandmattedandbrownedwith time.Andthehumming,thehorriblesongthatseemstowaftupfromthe undergrowth.Deepanddarkandthrumming,throbbingupandout,out,out. ---
Theykeeptravelingsouth,throughtherottingcorpsesofwhatonceweretowns andcities.Desolatehousesandbusinesses,guttedyearsagointheimmediate aftermathofthecollapse.Backwhentherewerestillformalizedcollectivesand information lines, the systematized farming of resources was practiced on an almostmilitaristicbasis.Foodlines,resourcepooling,allofthecarefullycarvedout systemsandstructuresmeanttoguaranteethathumanitywouldsurvivewhatever itwasthatwasfesteringinthenorth alldissolvedeventually,givingwaytothe emptiness that now stretched out before them, seemingly endlessly. So they continuedsouth,thetenofthem,theirstepsintunewiththeirownwhispering.
Theyseethegrowthitselfbeforetheyseethatitwasoncehuman.Itbloomsoutof thebodylikeapentagon,comingoutinsharpspiralsatfivepoints.Fleshsplit, curved,stretchedoutgrotesquelyoverabulbousheaduntilfinallyithadbeen forcedtosnapanddrop,tendrilsswayinginthewind.Thebody,whatoncewas thebody,hadbeenpushedupthewall.Thesheerforceofthegrowthknockingit againstthebricksandupatleasttenfeetintotheair,creatingasmearofhalfrealizedcrystalstructuresinitsascent,eachwebbingoutfromanoriginalplaceof impact.Theinfectionhadbeencentralized,itseemed,atthreepoints,startingnear thenavelandbranchingoutthroughtheribcagewhichhadbeensplit,cracked opentoenableself-cultivation.Asitcontinued,itgrew,split,festered,compelling eachlimboutandfurtherawayfromtheprevious.Asshepasses,sherealizesshe canfeeltheheatstillemanatingfromthebodyinwaves,likeitishumming.The songwhispersoutwithit,hissingandtwistingandgrowingsoftandvelvetyand sweet,overandoveragain.Shehearssomeonescreamandthinks,distantly,that sherecognizesthevoice.Shedoesnotstoptorememberwhoitbelongsto.After thescreamthereisprayer.Thereisalwaysprayer.Itisalltheyknowhowtodoin thefaceofit;theyprayandtheyprayandtheyprayanditissuffocating.Shefeelsas thoughsheisbeingburiedinit,layerafterlayer,andherlungsachefrombreathing itinagainandagainandagainandagainand—
Sherealizesitisnotaprayer,itisasong.Itisasongthatissingingtoherinwaves overandoveragain,crashingintoherandshecanfeelitunderherskin,underher fingernails,threateningtocomeup,andshefindsherselfswayingwithitinspiteof herself,pulledintosomehideousshadowydanceandthemovementscomelike somethinghalf-rememberedfromchildhood.Thereisasatisfyingheavinessshe canfeelinhershoulder,movinglikeleaddownherarmasherelbowispulledup,
up,up.Shemoves,followsthefeelingdowntoherelbowandthroughtoher fingertips,andthere,finally,isasenseofthingsmovingintoplaceafterwhatseems likeaverylongtimeoffightingforreallynoreasonwhatsoever,thisreallyisn’tso bad,isit?It’salmostpleasant,honestly,sosheallowsherselftobendandswayand bepulledintotherhythm.Sheallowsherselftobepulled,pulled,pulleduntil thereisahideouscrackandthedarknesslurches.
Tellmeasecret,Isay, andI’lleatitwithmyhands. Fingerspurpleandfleshy,nailsdarkfromdirtindizzy, waningcrescents. I’llwashitsfeatheredbody,crooked spinecreasedeven,halvescleanandsharp beforesmoothingitover kitchensinkmessofmilk andmoldspillingupandoverceramictile. I’lltearitdownthemiddle splitpetalswithmolars torevealsoft,wantingcenter:hollow,bird-boned thing,formlessspiralmadeheavywithhope.
Tellmeasecret, Isay,andIswearI’lleatitwhole;Iwilltakeitsomewheresoftand crushinginside myself andbemade somethingnew,somethingkind,something transformedinthewarblingexcavationofbeing knownandknowinganother.
petroleumjellysmearssentimental: acousticsetthrummedlazy likestomachcramps,curecarvedoutinpinkfluorescence,borrowed palmflush,warmandsoftandtilted
20
goldglintshazyalongcarpetwallandpomegranatejuicecrushes intofinegrain,edgescreasedtoosharp yourbackhurts andsoIwillslipmyhandinbetweenyourshirtandyourcoatand applypressure asifitwillhelp; asifIhaveeverbeengoodatsoothingwhataches.
inthiswaning,seltzer-drenchedkaleidoscopeofyouandIand ourborrowedtime,godspillsoutontotheconcrete,velvet-pulsed,andwe aretoofargone tocleanupmess.
hepoolsatourfeetand wemakesuretokickthebrokenpiecesoutofourway,careful tokeepfromslippingontheslickofhim.
myrightarmsnakeshungry andcrookedtowardstheskytokeepthebloodfromrushing;cranberryjoints toosoft,gauzybetweenhere andnow andwhatcomesagainandagain andagain: sentimentalityisasurvivalskilllearntalongtheslope ofself-destruction,feetflatagainstasphalt,oneshoulder-widthapart. hoursaftereveryoneelse hasgonehome.
IplacecheeseandgreengrapesinthesunniestbowlIcouldfind. Thenewspaperlaysunused,arecordoftime. Yourglassesareaskew,dappledlightinyourface, Leavinggoldenspotslikeholesthroughlace.
Thericeisstillcooking,thetableisnotset, YousleepinsuchawaythatIworryforyourneck.
ThiswasmyMa’srecipewithadashoflime, Butperhapswe’lleatlunchsomeothertime.
MahikaMukherjee(20),India
A r e f e h O z g o l i i s a 2 2y e a ro l d a r t i s t l i v i n g i n T e h r a n w h o s e f o c u s i s o n t h e m e d i u m o f p a i n t i n g w i t h a c o n t e m p o r a r y a p p r o a c h . T h e t o ip c s a n d c o n t e n t s h e i s i n t e r e s t e d i n a r e m o s t ly a b o u t s h o w i n g t h e i n n e r c u r r e n t s a n d t h e c o n c e p t o f r e p e t i t i o n a n d d a i ly l i f e ; by s h o w i n g t h e r e p e t i t i v e f o r m s, s h e t r i e s t o m a n i f e s t t h e r e p e a t e d i n t e r n a l c y c l e s a s m u c h a s p o s s i b l e . I n h e r o ip n i o n, t h e c o l o r s a r e a r e f l e c t i o n o f e m o t i o n s a n d i n t e r n a l f e e l i n g s .
KeanuDosSantosisa23-year-oldPOCqueerphotographerbasedinNew Jersey,andhisinterpretationofthispieceisthiscaptivatingseriesofphotographs isatestamenttotheawe-inspiringpowerandbeautyofblackgirlmagic. Throughthiscollection,Keanucapturestheessenceofresilience,strength,and gracethatradiatesfromthemelanin-richskin,celebratingthemagicthatlies withinhisbestfriendTaliyah.
ithinkhehaskeptthoseplantsalivemorethaneighteenyearsand thatsnakeplant’sleaveshavegrownyellowfromwhathefeedsit.ithinkheisa gardener;hehaspreservedlifehere.latelyitakeafterhimandikeepmyowngolden pothos:itslarge,plasticleaveshangingfrombesideitspot,likealadyresting,her tummyfull.
mywhiteextralargebinderhangsfromthecurtainpoleinthebathroom,baskingincold morningsunlightand
mychestrestsfromyesterday’sin-pressure.itissunday;imakeeggsforbreakfast; thereistimetoreadandknitandsitforprolongedhours.iwashmyselfacupoftea, particlesofchamomilesinking,chewingoutwarmthforflavor.isip.
iremovelastweek’sstainfromthekitchenfloor.still,thefaintsmellofroastchicken persists,ofcharredonionandrosemary.iremembermyhands,kneadingitsthighs, squeezinglemon.teethbitingintosofttenderflesh,satisfiedexhales.
sometimesithinkaboutyou:ilayonthecouch,absent-mindedasimunchalemon muffin.you’reatthetable,forkingaroundyouromelette(sun-driedtomatoes),halfcold. ihearthemetalclinkagainsttheplate,itellyoutojusteatit.yousetdownyour newspaperanddo.whenwe’refinished,youwashtheplates:hand-made,japanese, artisan.weboughtthematafleamarket.thebluesoapbubblescoatyourhands.my favoritecolor.isqueezeyourwaist,youkissmyshoulderasipass.
TeddySui(they/them)isastudentfromHongKong.Intheirsparetime,they enjoypainting,sculpting,andwatchingtrashyromanticmovies.Inthefuture, theywouldliketobeafulltimestorywriterforindiegames,animations,and films.YoucanfindthemonInstagram@bunnikissz.
W i l l i a m ( W i l l ) T a ly o r i s a 2 6y e a ro l d c o n t e m p o r a r y a r t i s t f r o m S o u t h e r n C a l i f o r n i a . A f t e r l e a v i n g f o r m a l a c a d e m i a b e h i n d a t 1 8, h e t o o k h i s o w n a r t i s t i c p a t h, d r a w i n g f r o m d i f f e r e n t t e a c h i n g s, a r t b o o k s, a n d a r t c o u r s e s . H e w o r k s o u t o f a s m a l l b e d r o o m s t u d i o a n d s h a r e s h i s w o r k o n l i n e a n d a t a r t s h o w s, m a i n ly i n t h e L A a r e a . H e h a s c o l l e c t o r s a l l a r o u n d t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s a n d a f e w o v e r s e a s .
C o m b i n i n g l a y e r e d a b s t r a c t i o n w i t h s n ip p e t s o f p o e t i c t e x t, h i s w o r k e m p h a s i z e s i n t r o s p e c t i o n a n d r i c h e m o t i o n a l e x p e r i e n c e . I n m a n y w a y s h e i s a n i n t r o v e r t, s o h i s w o r k t e n d s t o f o c u s o n i n n e r j o u r n e y s .
we all do yoga so santa monica can arch its back all the way to malibu and back when i met you on a topanga spine i lost you on a kanan curve and back when i believed in the valley we could get stuck in traffic and call it art call it worth the wait worth the smog i am worth griffith park at sundown the way the river swells egrets when it rains i am worth every billboard on sunset strip me down into nothing but my cineramadome and i promise i will fuck you like a celebrity like did you know eagle rock is a rock shaped like an eagle did you know thiscity was once an avocado pit you think you smell like rodeo drive you think you smell like the hollywood sign i think you smell like freeway noise once i climbed to the top of a palm tree looked out and saw nothing at all but believe me when i say that’s not a purple t-shirt that’s a jacaranda tree that’s not an onramp that’s how you move a body this is not a city this is a sun beam don’t look at it look at the way it lights up your face
n t e r e s t e d i n h o w p o e t r y c a n b e u s e d a s a t o o l f o r r a d i c a l s e l fe x lp o r a t i o n . B a r k e r a t t e n d s V a s s a r C o l l e g e w h e r e h e i s a n A m e r i c a n S t u d i e s m a j o r w i t h f o c u s e s i n E n lg i s h a n d A r t H i s t o r y a n d a C r e a t i v e W r i t i n g m i n o r . B a r k e ’r s w r i t i n g h a s a p p e a r e d i n P e a c h M a g , E q u a t o r i a l M a g a z i n e, a n d G r i n k i n M a g a z i n e .
ihavethissillyhalf-daydreamwhereichasescarsdownyourspine, trippingandslippingandjumpingoverthefoldsofyourskin iamsmallandinconsequential andyouswatmeaway
shiftinginyourseatoveranitchyoucan'tplace
youhumatuneandidosomersaultsalongyourribcage ifallasleepunderyoureyelashes
fanningoutoverme
andflickeringwitheachsmallmovementimake
yourheartbeatsaremyheartaches
nowandtheniwakeupsweatywithyournervousanticipation youtalktoheraboutyourfavouritemovies sheasksyouhowmanymolesyouhave youlaugh
thegroundundermyfeetshakes
youhavefourteen they'rethesamesizeasmyrightpalm
PragyaTomer(she/her)isa17yearoldsoon-to-befreshmanatlawschoolin India.Shespendsherdaysendlesslycuratingahyperspecificpoetrycollectionfor every emotion possible, watching video essays and laughing at Letterboxd reviews.SheenjoyspoetslikeWendyCope,AdaLimon,KimAddonizioand MaryOliver.
i n t o h e r w o r k a s w e l l a s h e r e m o t i o n a l s e l f . Y o u c a n f i n d h e r o n I n s t a g r a m @ w o r m i n t h e w h i s k e y .
d i f f e r e n t b e a u t i f u l b o yd yt p e s i n h e r pi e c e s . H o w e v e ,r C a i t l i n s t i l l g e t s a s e n s e o f p u t t i n g h e r ph y s i c a l f o r m
h e r s e l f . C a i t l i n c h a n g e s c e r t a i n f e a t u r e s s u c h a s g e n d e ,r s k i n t o n ,e w e gi h ,t m u s c l e e t c . s o t h a t s h e c a n i n c l u d e
m o m e n t a r i yl , s h e i s n o l o n g e r c o n c e r n e d w i t h h o w o t h e r p e o pl e s e e h e ,r o n yl f o c u s i n g o n h o w s h e p e r c e i v e s
b o yd a s r e f e r e n c e f o r a l l t h e f gi u r e s i n h e r w o r k . T h i s a l l o w s C a i t l i n t o s e e h e r s e l f i n a d i f f e r e n t lgi h t a s
C a i t l i n W a l t o n s t r u g gl e s w i t h h e r b o yd i m a g e a n d u s e s p a i n t i n g a s a w a y t o c o m b a t t h i s yb u s i n g h e r