“The Offering” By: Angel Dionne
Papier-mâché moon beams drench the streets with their opaque light. I’ve walked these streets every evening for the past two years, leisurely observing the cook...
Papier-mâché moon beams drench the streets with their opaque light. I’ve walked these streets every evening for the past two years, leisurely observing the cook...
Breasts trussed Ace bandage Metal talons Holding me together Skin pierced Chest tight Breaths short Heart beats against its cage Fat molds Muscles...
Saadia Faruqi is a Pakistani-American fiction and nonfiction writer. She writes for Huffington Post and The Islamic Monthly about the global contemporary Muslim...
i want to do something to impress you: shoot zigzags of purple lightning from my eyeballs, nonchalantly float cars until they whirlpool around me in a circle, c...
I changed direction from arbitrary / north for parallel / galaxies & finite ends that bleeds one to next; this drain is not a pool in which to swim w...
i wonder how often you have to microwave grapefruit before it feels like my tight asshole how many paintbrushes i have broken massaging biology beneath spotted ...
The window in the corner of the room framed pedestrians walking below on brick sidewalks as Star Langley bobbed and weaved in her wheelchair. Her creamy brown f...
President Obama was on TV! It was June 26, 2015, and the president was making a speech about marriage and how it now represented marriage for all. My eyes water...
Coloured scraps, broken toys, jagged edges, refracted light tumble around life’s kaleidoscope, never the same pattern twice. Everything is there: memories, desi...
TW: suicide A letter to my sister, Ericka Dear Ericka: Exactly three months have passed since you sat in your small American car, faced a r...