By Danez Smith For Claire so much someday due to usthe right tomorrow always on delayso much soon gone rotten in the barrel, and don’t get mestarted on the never now future. i say we kill Time, since killing Goddid nada. i say we cut Time openand find what’s owed to us inside.it might make a mess: the dinosaursmight learn Greek, the slaves could escape on spaceships,Carnival cruise ships on rescue missionsfleeing Auschwitz riding wavesof earth, maybe a holewould open under every king, …
Parachute
By Douglas W. Milliken The first one up and the uneasy anti-ritual of making coffee in someone else’s kitchen, barefoot and cat-stepping the cold linoleum as quietly as possible while searching drawer to drawer, cupboard to cupboard for grounds, filters, spoons, et cetera. The gentle morning chill slinking inside through fallible window screens, the slid half-open back patio door. Stacks of last night’s spaghetti-smeared dishes and collectible jam jars wine-stained red alongside stacks …
Bait and Switch
By Danez Smith Brown Dad taught me to cut bait, to fillet away from the tailand run the knife across the bones like a stick on a picket fence,to sliver enough meat to hide the hook, to keep the skin intact because, in the dark, it can catch facets of light and lure. Brown Dad taught me to use up the small or inedible for bait, to mimic naturewhile paralleling capitalism’s tendency to add value by …
DEFENSE + CONNECTION
By Delia Tramontina by now emotions are often covered by stillness and thoughtsthe urges forpursuing or exploringquiet now and life is pleasantas I slip away with so much goodnessand what got left out an experienceseeing me whole I ama body to feelmy skin mysafety contains mywant and wisdomto locate whoI am entirely and variedI am remembering myselfas I still want things Delia Tramontina is originally from Flushing, NY. She received her MFA in Writing and Poetics from Naropa …
Still Not Fatigued 12 Questions
After Bhanu Kapil and Chen ChenBy Purbasha Roy Is time the thing you came searching for Did the void sounds awaken your nostalgia Can you recall your voice from the sheared part of you Can you segregate your first shape melted inside your current Do you still recognize my windowfull breaths intersecting yours How many world images got sponged in the sojourn Which language can exactly mirror your silence Which tattoo can you make from your mother’s suffering How have …
Boomland
By Ebony L. Morman November 10, 1995 No. No. No. This cannot be happening. Not to me, not right now. I sit up and hug the driver’s seat from behind. “How much longer?” Please don’t be long. Please say not that much longer. “Not much longer, baby girl.” Okay. Not much longer. Not much longer. Maybe if I say it enough, that’ll speed up time or get Uncle Lance to close the distance quicker. Not much longer? Five? Ten minutes? What am I even talking about? It all …
