May 28, 2026 | Fiction
Dad Micronation
Maximiliano Guzmán
His unbuttoned shirt, his summer breakfast. The gesture of his mouth was the opening of unsaid words.
May 27, 2026 | Nonfiction
Are You There, Jane? It’s Me Femcel: Buying The Boyfriend Experience
Madison Murray
The gigolos texted me back while my mom and I watched Zootopia 2
May 27, 2026 | Poetry
Four Poems
Jackie K. White
Fury Psalm 6:
Let there be a God, an earth, seasons weathered through a time
for this, for that, for breathing and for holding one’s breath.
Let there be seasons when the moon has nothing to be
May 26, 2026 | Poetry
Tonight he only dreams of tulips
Jason Davidson
Lie here with me, if only for a while.
The Sitarist
Katie Haley
Sitting in his gold Toyota listening to old metal. He turned down The Accused to tell me about his diagnosis.
Someone Else's Flowers
Tara Layne
“The Upper East Side. For uncreative rich people who don't know the first thing about being happy,” Mom said, and I believed her.
For Practice
Hannah Meyer
Avery was the worst kind of people pleaser. A failed one who didn’t know how to make other people happy but attempted only to her own demise. When Sienna asked Avery if she wanted to steal, the yes
This Place, for Magic
Eric Boyd
It is warm in the theatre. The chair is comfortable. The trailers ended and most of the films looked good. A Coca Cola ad begins playing, which is the second to last thing they show before the movie.
Early August
Destin Shimer
She walks around like a colt in a kitchen I don’t know, bluish crescent bruise on her calf flashing every couple of turns at me.
vanishing like time and money: 2 poems
Kristopher Hall
I would take you as you are and were
over all this dead air.
Uncle Fingers
Ashley Yang-Thompson
I met the man who would become my Uncle through an insane-clown-posse-adjacent dishwasher coworker who wanted us to star in his uncomfortably misogynistic Instagram horror movie.
I had just moved
Undertow
David LeBrun
When the sun went down, I saw the man on the sidewalk. He had fallen onto his suitcase with a shopping bag at his feet. The light turned green. A car honked behind me. I drove ahead, but a pedestrian
Are You There Jane? It’s Me, Femcel: My Journey to Hiring a Male Escort
Madison Murray
His dismissal to reduce me to my womanhood and paycheck fucked me.
Packer Short
J Brooke
Am I too old? Nah,
I’ve yet to wear
my trousers rolled.
But this morning
coffee in bed, my wife
and I scrolling —
Hers: prison
What Is It Like
Mary Dahm
She wrapped her arm around his back in a quick half-hug that made it easy for him to tuck the envelope in her purse. She excused herself to the bathroom so she could count it.
The Pilot
Emma Burger
I looked him up on Instagram. The only thing publicly linked to him was a photo of his smiling face in the cockpit of a 737, posted by the National Gay Pilots Association from 2020.
Good morning pathos
Emily May
I left Texas to have him. Not for him, but for me: so that I would survive.
Interview with a Gallery Owner
Dmitriy Kogan
I sat down. Cassandra ordered a glass of wine. “I hope this wasn’t sudden,” she said.
My Mother the Diviner
Mike McHone
i wonder how hard it is for her to
reconcile being a Christian and a witch
judge and judged. how easy
In Search of Groypers
Kyle Kouri
Thus commences the portion of the evening in which you retrieve the Svedka again to sober up
Three Poems
Billy Jackson
cause that is all we knew
we drank liquor, smoked crack,
escorted prostitutes around in our car,
hoping for a bisquit, or a small dead bird,
a song sweetly sung; that no one ever heard.
The Unsuccessful Attempt to Bite the Dust
Rebecca Forest
I listen to Queen. “Another One Bites the Dust.” The soundtrack of my life.
Maria Lompar
Mikra Namani
Countless times she was quoted for her famous remark that “monogamy is a prison that free people voluntarily check themselves in for the duration of their lives.” And “can anything be more depressing and boring in life than fucking the same person over and over again, for decades?”
Orange St.
Madelyn Musick
And I wonder if we are always standing at the street corner eating each other’s hearts.
Four Poems
Tim Frank
In essence, there’s only one advert that can placate the masses. It’s by the surfers, slicing through the whitecaps like rotten pomegranates. It’s a thirty second trance, with a Magritte bowler hat, floating over roadkill.
Alysa Liu Diary
Ulyses Razo
i would certainly suck the islamic terrorists' cocks to save alysa li
Dead Fish, New Fish
J S Khan
The club isn’t so different than Plato’s cave, she thought one night after getting home from work, and while staring for a long time into her aquarium admiring its latest tenants.




