• Three Poems by Jeremy Hoevenaar

    I lose myself, maybe borrow / you if that’s a right I can / manifest by speaking–– / speaking here meaning / writing in the sense / that writing even in relative / silence feels loud / and resonant with a duration / metaphor wants me / to call breathing... Read More

    Other People by Jasmine Dreame Wagner

    The cinematic is where I run / to or from pursuit / of a view that will make me feel / time exists outside of myself... Read More

    Synthetic by Katie Ebbitt

    I made holes, deeply, / Because being cold left me / Bruising, or the opposite, healed / Face that forgets / Its own age... Read More

    the beginning of suffering is by Valerie Hsiung

    the beginning of suffering is species accordance / the beginning of suffering is echo dislocation / the beginning of suffering is experimentation / the beginning of suffering is interspecies vivisection / the beginning of suffering is eco sideshow... Read More

    a murmuring art: translations of Henri Michaux’s asemic texts by Hannah Kezema

    you’re a cascade, lightly / undefined and undressed, / mad / now / tangled of word / i, noise-light / might soften / in sprawling / would i seem just an evening under the star of sky / or could i ruminate from each side / into modern... Read More

    Four Poems by Shira Dentz

    wild flusters rose over rocks / tombs / callously forbidding / combing / may when nightfall / cutting emblem / surround serrate / loose—no? regurgitate. / sway a line / tilted and bulbous / creek / fall asleep... Read More

    Three Poems from From A Winter Notebook by Matvei Yankelevich

    It sounded so much better before I wrote it down, / even my jealousy seemed wingéd, like Marina’s. / Does the road wind up hill all the way? My teeth will rot, / but I’ll be rot, I hope, before that happens — then will words / mean what they say, finally…, then will you... Read More

    Fragments from Moon Ring by Annie Le Brun, trans. from French by Alicen Weida

    Children of this century, avert your gaze. Lips are no longer on every word. Words climb pell-mell onto the backs of things. And things, wandering in the desert of their own erosion, seek to bribe our bones, the uncertain keepers of a fortified mirage... Read More

    Three Poems by Kirsten Ihns

    sneezer in the foi yay, permitted as i am to name my hour / the pummeling quality that uniquely static can, i take it on / i produce a horrible noise / i intensify / the horrible noise i track across the surface of text every time / mud / no i track the slow... Read More

    Desert Vivant by Isabel Sobral Campos

    no point thinking from carcass to cemetery / no point thinking, or if thinking, the thought / licks the pebble or desert domed cloud / it weighs then beats brow / now that / ancestors sleep with sharks / the herring haunts these waterless place / a sculled face... Read More