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Sloppy Brain by Ashlie Allen

I’m not a ghost, but you touch me as if you can’t feel anything, expression absent of fascination, hands still like there is no meaning to my skin. I shiver a lot because [...]

July 7, 2017 // 2 Comments

Our Man by Meg Pokrass

This week our stunted man hobbles around the house wearing fluffy, taped-together slippers. It appears as if he has broken a toe. Last week, he was a braying like a donkey, [...]

June 26, 2017 // 1 Comment

The Huldufolk by Liz Kay

You had spent most of your years gazing at the moon like a thick haired child on a Christmas advert but the orange plane to Reykjavik would do instead. That had been on my [...]

May 17, 2017 // 1 Comment

Lightwood by Steph Post

There was no one to greet Judah Cannon when he got out of Starke, so he just started walking. The sky was gray, the air stagnant, the thick Florida heat already oppressive [...]

May 1, 2017 // 1 Comment

Black Clot by Ashlie Allen

My hair did not like its saffron color, so it turned black and broke off. I tried to condition it with organic oils and fruit, but it still had a temper. Sometimes when I cry [...]

April 17, 2017 // 1 Comment