Author: Alfonso Colasuonno

Sensory Deprivation, by Julie Hart

You walk 25 blocks in the slashing sleet. You peel off your soggy down coat and roll it up, stuff it in a little locker, along with your wallet and glasses. You sign a waiver. You will, in fact, allow them to take webcam video and post stills from it on Tumblr. You think: why […]

Of Gas and Vapor, by Marissa Ahmadkhani

Caged canaries used to be taken down, deep into the mines—as early warning signs for deadly leaks of gas and vapor. And I guess there were warning signs of our own ochre death. Of our bodies separated by a noxious fog and our two hearts slowing. I would have known if I had listened. Listened […]

I collect myself, by Tawnya Renelle

in fingernail clippings curly red pubic hair in the smell of socks bobby pins in the carpet in popped zits stacks of journals in skin tattooed I collect myself in case nobody else does   Tawnya Renelle is a poet from Bellingham, WA. She completed a MFA in Creative Writing from Goddard College and is […]

Shadows At Night, by Natalie Crick

Shadows dance: The shape of your ghost A pornography of orchids, Soft, quiet as new snow. Night fulls. Our bodies grow limbs. They rise and sink, Feeling for a heartbeat. Longing, melting Like dead bees pouring From a smoking hive. Tulip petals close. The stars will not hold back. They starve for light. Moon dreams […]

Rezanoff Drive, by Glenn Nelson

I can no longer remember certain things about the past. Faces dissolve…. A gentle touch… gone… like a candle blown out by the wind. There are still shapes in the fog…. A sort of lingering form in the darkness. I can still remember the disjointed rattling of the el train as it passes by my […]

Two Poems, by Gale Acuff

Delilah and Samson Man, do I love my wife since she shaved her head. And I mean bald, as if it never was intended to bear hair. I like sports so she’s just about any ball I can think of–billiard, bowling, bearing, BB. One night I dared her to do it and she did. It […]

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