2 Poems By: Jason Carey
“Dysphoria” You can touch, but not too high. You can grab my shoulders, and feel the bones sink into your palms. You can trace my back with y...
“Dysphoria” You can touch, but not too high. You can grab my shoulders, and feel the bones sink into your palms. You can trace my back with y...
The night his dad died, Tyne Darling slept with Oscar Gamble under his pillow. He also kept his fingers crossed on both hands. He saw Jesus doing the same thing...
In the spring, Amanda colored her emotions with a standard 8-pack of Crayola Crayons. Her flowers were cheerful yellow and her sun cast a glowing caress of oran...
“Two Gloves” Cheryl starts her homeless career, hikes onto the freeway onramp. This is the spiritual center of L.A., she says aloud, to no one. One ...
1. From what I knew of her, Jenny was an art kid. She was known for her small eccentricities—paint dotted hands, glittery overalls. Her hair was big, curly brow...