April 12, 2022 | Poetry
Balk/Change Up/Intentional Walk/Rehab Assignment/The Off Day
John Walser
Just that instant
when thinking becomes
too much
April 11, 2022 | Fiction
In the Books
Travis Price
Two things are clear to Ava: It’s time to end things with Nico, and Thad Worley might not make it out of the first inning.
He’s next to her in the left field bleachers chewing on a hang nail and
April 10, 2022 | fucked up modern love essays
The Sitcom Actor (Who Really, Really Cares)
Sophia Jennings
Almost every day, the sitcom actor goes on Instagram to tell his five million followers what he knows about race, class, and - more often than not, women.
April 6, 2022 | Poetry
Nostalgia Sells
Chris Pellizzari
Drive-in movie theater, Merrillville, Indiana, 1989
Field of Dreams on a screen bigger than every building in Merrillville,
my brother and I eating chocolate sundaes from mini Dairy Queen
Posing Naked and the Art of Separation
Elena Lee Anderson
1. There is a protective radius of ten feet on all sides of me.
2. I only know the name of one person in this room.
3. My body hair was groomed solely for this moment.
Writer School Gremlin Gets Homesick
Marne Litfin
When I'm in Philly, I miss my desk... But when I'm in Ann Arbor, I miss our bed.
My Shoes Are Ruined and You Said Nothing
Sean Turner McLeod
You are standing on an indifferent platform in Preston Station and a little black spaniel is making unbreaking eye-contact with you as he pisses on your leg.
Stir It Up: Aileen Weintraub talks food, pregnancy amidst the chaos, and her new book Knocked Down: A High-Risk Memoir
Hannah Grieco
Aileen Weintraub is one of those incredibly funny writers who also has that superpower to make you cry against your will. You may have read her pieces about pregnancy, motherhood, aging, and more –
Softbox
Anya Maria Johnson
On the first day of my streaming career, I asked Gabe to come over to adjust the lighting design of my “set.”
Queer Time, Sand Too
Aislin Neufeldt
Maybe you didn’t recognize me, me with longer hair, growing tits, a new name.
The Far Side
Julie Goldberg
She was going up to Poughkeepsie to see a girl she had met on the internet who, promisingly, shared her passion for Gary Larson comics.
In a New York Summer
David Ehmcke
Two men smoking cigarettes on Bleecker could mean anything
to each other.
Prep School Drug Mule
Sadie McCarney
Fifteen years before my autism diagnosis - the year I chopped off all my hair with jagged scissors - I hid a not inconsequential baggie of hash in my dorm room closet. I was, as always, trying to
The Grandmas
Chelsie Bryant
When you died in March, five months before I bought my first plant, I learned what sobbing is.
I Laugh at My Great-Grandmother’s Funeral
Josephine Wu
All the time I don’t know what I’ve lost.
Same Difference
Clare Fisher
She opens her mouth to speak, then shuts it, starts to laugh. ‘I guess we're both freaks.’
The Case For Queerplatonic Love
Tenacity Plys
I.
In third grade, we spend every lunch writing comic books together. We invent a cinematic universe of imagined worlds to rival Marvel's. I've known her since I was six, and I've known my sister
Josephine, or Alter Ego
Joseph O. Legaspi
Is this how a woman
Disappears, water-tap and soil
The Red Bird
Michael McSweeney
My six-year-old son stretches his arms to their limit as he describes his latest nightmare.
The Stay of Grief
Elizabeth Crowell
There is one boat out every day.
We are never packed in time to take it.
Outside the VIP Room of Club Private Grief
Nick Martino
She flips a stool on the bar like a lamb
—springtime, I fell in love again
Zoe Contros Kearl
Charming shyness paired with a love of dancing the Charleston in heels in the street past midnight. I kissed her bloodied knees.
Little Prayer for a Snail
Ben Seanor
There’s so much advice
in the world, such as: if you’re feeling
very low, put on a suit
Jen Frantz
Jen Frantz
I made a call
and I lived.
It was the longest
life of my life.
Baggage Claim
Mason Parker
2 is the grade I was in when I thought I loved Lucy. 2 is the number of times Lucy was arrested for meth in a single day. 2 is the number of Xanies she must have taken the night she showed up to my welcome home party, because she was fucking sloppy.
We Are All Just Above Ground Pools: Elizabeth Ellen Interviews Sean Thor Conroe
Elizabeth Ellen
I think Westerners, and Americans especially, struggle with “autofiction” since their conceptions of self are so fixed.




