March 21, 2020 |
My First Sexy Halloween
Lindsey Wente
I walked through the senior hallway, heart beating fast. The boys’ stares burned into my skin as they whispered things to each other.
March 20, 2020 | Nonfiction
A Slim Sexuality
Chelsey Clammer
In my head, dating women was a body competition.
After the Heat
Paige Towers
Because let’s face it, boiled tea does not meet my privileged standards for heat.
A Girl Cawed
Rachel Ranie Taube
“If you have to say you’re fine, you’re probably not,” the crow replied.
Tymbal
Colleen Mayo
I remember being young and small and barefoot on the concrete floor: look closely and see how the cicada shells vibrate as the Texas Hill Country winds sift in.
Death Packet
Rachel Chenven Powers
Lenore was at the cusp. I’m cusping, Percy, she rasped. Percy was unsure what to do about it. Press forward? Hang back?
Full House
Kent Kosack
In jazz, woodshedding refers to the shed you sequester yourself in, as a young musician learning the craft, a private space to develop your own style, away from prying eyes or critical ears.
pete wentz came to me in a dream and told me to title this poem like a mid 00s fall out boy song
Rory Green
i trapped pete wentz
in a pastoral landscape
The Anniversary
Harris Lahti
Married twenty years today, Heather and Vic play that game.
My First Cd: Avril Lavigne, Let Go
Sarah Ruth Bates
It’s the first time I remember feeling that superstrong tween indignation that he’d taken something that was supposed to be just mine.
Swing Low, Sweet Chariot
Juliana Crespo
They walked along the railroad somewhere in Atlanta on a cold and bitter night, the full moon above them like a yellow coin some unforgiving God had tossed far out into the galaxy. In the near
Hoop Dreams
Josh Lefkowitz
Every car passing by might house a backseat scout
Brent’s Deli
Jeremy Radin
Were this place to close, or burn, or fall, in an earthquake, down.
Were it to flood or be bulldozed to make way for the gray &
unmusical slab of an apartment building. Were it to be
Bad Construction
Heather De Bel
There is a crawl space in my lover’s house that his wife and children don’t know about. He likes to sing into it when he’s drunk and he’s only drunk when he’s with me.
II - Maylene
Corey Miller
Nate and I were in a band together throughout high school — screamo with keyboards.
HOLD ME OVER THIS BOILING CAULDRON BUT PLEASE DON’T DROP ME IN
Kimberly Ann Southwick
I dreamed my brother gave his dog to a friend in New York
who could better care for him. we walked into the woods
behind the wintered swim club where the swan babies
held their bonfires. I was
Seven Synchronized Scenes
Laurel Shimasaki
A city wide boil advisory is still out. Brain eating amoebas were detected in the tap.
Getting Clean
Elizabeth Droppers
Q-tips were her guilty pleasure. She loved the feel of them caressing her inner ear, reaching the itch she could otherwise not scratch. Even when there wasn’t a swish of water lodged within, she loved
Goodbye Big Red
Paul Hansen
If I’m going to be honest, my life has been running at something of a parallel to Husker Football for the last ten years, over which time I’ve tried to hack it as a musician, restaurateur, and writer.
“Who’s in the barn, what’s he doing in there, is it even his barn?”
Nick Farriella
A Flash Book Review of ‘50 Barn Poems’ and Brief Interview with Zac Smith
Good company
Eleanor Garran
My mother once jumped off a boat into a swarm of jellyfish. Why did she think they would not sting?
From Once Nice People
Thea Zimmer
We heard something Anglo, unhinged, too human. We’d been hoping for Shrimp killing Cow or Cow killing Shrimp, but it was you, Bitcha, flailing and teetering about in the night sky.
Waiting on a Friend
Avery Gregurich
Sometimes, he gives me tips. Most of the time, it is this: “Take your time.”
A Day's Waste
Aram Mrjoian
I awoke no more than ten minutes ago and already so much has been consumed
The Seminar
Jacob Guajardo
She had us trade cardigans. She said it was an exercise in empathy.




