Five Poems by Ted Dodson
I would look away / Into the room’s silent reception / But as my character recedes I tire of looking at all. / The world has ended. Your resurrection eyes / Come across this second to last line—you / Can be assured I have read this already...
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Five Poems by Lindsay Remee Ahl
what seemed solid, the brick building we lived in, / the street corner I waited on to hold my child’s hand— / vanished in a breath / night all around, rain falling, I hear a crack— / a tree plummets to the road right before me / but I’m still standing as though / all... Read More
Two Poems by Vi Khi Nao
The eloquent lungs of us twins are piled / upon one another. Mother, your / concealed nipples are the tents that the / feet of our existence step on. / I hope our breathing doesn’t temporarily / upset your evening inside the tumescent / hide. This oblivion. This sublime maternal / gesture. Coming from you... Read More
Two Texts from Apostasy by Katy Mongeau
I fell asleep with our innards like a long sentimental rope. The white pillar holding all of this up has a halo. You can be ruined but not empty. You can be a temple but not empty. You can be a ruin but not nothing, no... Read More
Editors’ Note: Vestiges_02: Ennui
Free to be anywhere, boredom takes the writer everywhere. Free from apprehension, the writer is no longer pushed to panic by boredom, fumbling to alleviate it. What, then, does one do with this liberty? One not simply does but remembers, and detrimentally... Read More
Four Poems by Ashley David
Difficult to locate, my heart bleeds / while they feed at my breasts. Slice / my tongue twice with a sword. Horses / are hungry, the serpent and moon waning, / volcanic sun socks a line to bread and iron. / Water virgin and a cow with one arm feel / a heart that does... Read More
ВѢДѢТИ by Lital Khaikin
To sink entirely into this dark lung, is all. / As land before footfall, earth rests in silence, un-anticipating and significant. / Endless interiours, expanding one into the next – contains an entire history of emptiness. All the world a magnet... Read More
The Cliff’s Edge by Evan Lavender-Smith
That she will fall from the cliff’s edge. That her son’s sweaty hand will slip from her grasp and her son will fall from the cliff’s edge. That her outstretched fingers will fail to catch onto her daughter’s onesie as her daughter waddles out past the cliff’s edge. That her flabby biceps won’t support her... Read More
Editors’ Note: Vestiges_00: Ex-Stasis
Writers are abject beings. Their numbers, like those of cockroaches, are indefinite, and their sight is similarly met with first a grimace of disgust, followed then by scorn. Writing is an art that deals in unwanted gifts, an exercise in the superfluous... Read More
novae by Daniele Bellomi, trans.from Italian by Anton Ivanov
could have stayed away from the observation point, never again to say / a word about the shadowed part with no one, evaluating distances with eyes / used to a hypothetical explosion, to precede like one proceeds amongst variables / and cautions, proximity to collapse, tracing again the once combusted edge / of anything seen... Read More