by Madeleine Barnes
Your mother cannot remember you.
To her, you are an alabaster queen,
snakeskin and sundials, mineral crown.
She believes in circles, wedding bands,
orbits, covered your palace columns
in hoops and wreaths. Porcelain centaur,
ruby mermaid. Each became hers, so,. »
Poetry by LaToya Jordan
Our Father, who art in Heaven,
However he be: drunk, sober, slipping strippers dollar bills, belligerent with a large group of men who look like him, I pray the Lord his soul to. »
Fiction by Shome Dasgupta
Did you know? Did you know that he and he took out my spinal chord and used it as a piano-. »
The main thing I see in the writing is this strain of what I call “hysterical lyricism.” Certain younger writers are just so saturated by visual media. »