Issue XXXV

35.

The following selections are from our 2019 printed journal.

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Editors:
Izzy Blyler-Seda/ Savannah Culley/ Rory Elliott/ Ryan Erickson/ Laura Falbey/ Kelsey Figg/ Amber French/ Lilia Hinds/ Lori McCloskey/ Jack McDonald/ Aidan Melkerson/ Mirela Musić/ Jasmine Pierce/ Anya Rehon/Knife Smith/ Bri Joy Stevens/ Maia Vasconez-Taylor/ Zelmira Stevens Vindas/ Miriam Vonnahme

Advisor(s):
Justin Rigamonti

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in print CONTENTS:

  • Vladimir Lenin is Haunting me….. Madiha Khan
  • Zapis….. Adem Deniz Garic
  • Sugardrunk….. Joshua Ackerman
  • let me take you to church on fridays after gin and whiskey….. Lexie Fried
  • Shards….. Todd Heldt
  • salix babylonia….. RC deWinter
  • temporary remission….. RC deWinter
  • Rooster….. Leah Baker
  • THE OTHER SIDE….. Kaaviya Venkatesh
  • Weltzschmerz….. Brandon Marlon
  • Robot….. N. L. H. Hattam
  • The Last Scoundrel In The World….. Dmitry Bliznuik
  • The Angel of Death From the Punk’s Tarot….. Sherre Vernon
  • Halves….. Mylena Panelli
  • mURDERED & mISSING iNDIGENOUS wOMEN*….. Jessica Mehta
  • Economics of the Heart….. Jessica Mehta
  • Kitchen Improv….. Emily Ellison
  • the trajectory of burst stars….. Emily Ellison
  • when you asked me if I was crying….. Emily Ellison
  • “NyQuil Night”….. Rich Glinnen
  • Stargazers….. Christina Alaimo
  • We Have a Word for That….. Christina Alaimo
  • AMERICAN BOY….. Carl Boon
  • THE BLOCK….. Carl Boon
  • NEW POET….. Carl Boon
  • Socotra….. Brandon Marlon
  • Father Tells Me….. Anishka Duggal
  • Subjugation….. Anishka Duggal
  • Depression Poem….. Maia Vásconez-Taylor
  • zen or somethinglike….. Andrew Lafleche
  • a Fortune Cookie covered in mold….. Ricky De Guzman
  • Autobonny….. Ella Beaver
  • Groundwater….. Ella Beaver
  • 19….. Ella Beaver
  • LUNA AT DAWN….. Martha Patterson
  • 1 want to be planted….. Suzie Kassouf
  • Making Sense of Nothing….. Lilia Hinds
  • It’s Hard to Forget Someone Who’s Given You So Much to Remember….. Kelsey Figg
  • Laocoon & His Sons….. Arthur Kwon Lee
  • All & Everything….. Arthur Kwon Lee
  • Fusca Red….. Guilherme Bergamini
  • Where Had I Gone….. Alex Jaebin Lee
  • IMG_3291….. Hazel Westgard
  • IMG_7304….. Hazel Westgard
  • Safaya….. Hal Bernhoft
  • Stone Steps….. Cheryl Zion
  • Portland, OR….. Maia Vásconez-Taylor
  • The Mother of Invention….. J.E. Crum

Selections


let me take you to church on fridays after gin and whiskey
by Lexie Fried

roar ‘oh my god’ so she knows you like it take
communion when my thighs greet your face
taste thy gifts, which we are about to receive knees rap the hardwood
floor, make you beg for mercy whisper sins in my ears, teeth bashed
pillows no longer muffle crying out your confessions, repent
keep it pseudo with a blindfold dip deep,
deliver baptisms when I get you wet
god is a woman in this bed, no more virgin mary’s
metamorphose lube into holy water vocalize moans to the
harmony of the gospel precise fingers conduct the choir
adagio, andante, allegro- you designate reach
salvation when you climax
arch your back, thy will be (un)done

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The Other Side
by Kaaviya Venkatesh

He sees only the pricked-apart seam in my dress,
The tangle of sun-swept foil on the seat. Remains
Of pussy-footed privilege, a child of constant rebirth.
We live in two worlds, separated by a wall
Of silver-misted glass. Our eyes never meet; yet
I know his figure of patent porcelain, trapped
Between layers of scalding waxwork and uneasy heat,
Flames cradling in shame the flint-hardened sound
Of winter’s harshest wail. The streets cleansed of barest dust,
Then turned to living ice. I watch him leave, silent, unheeding,
Alone amidst the madness of the frieze. The green of signal refrain
Carries me away from the glare of guilt in his steeple-sunk eyes,
And an even heavier heart.

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All & Everything
by Arthur Kwon Lee

2019

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mURDERED & mISSING iNDIGENOUS wOMEN*
by Jessica Mehta (excerpt)

A girl gotta grow up, leave the rez, & do we talk about it? Igido called twice for bail but both were after a Tahlequah fall & high with opioid they drove right through a gate. Bolted up the highway—bare feet & all—hitched a ride via lifted truck to take her far away before 911 with, The devil up & took the car. Dad left right outta jail, headed to the Pacific & gave away that plot of Cherokee a year later. You’da hated it & I probably would have.

No folks gonna talk of them gone ones anymore. They look at me all, Got some bless’n on y’all—after all, no cop has got me (yet). No reason, really. Everyone else, the hole fam’ly, gone & sear to memory the creak of a cell’s cot frame long ago. None of y’all can fathom at the places gonna call for me. They gone & settle prefrontal cortex, & that seems an okay place to some.

At 15, we 3 bunked all day 4 an aged wee-jee game: We’d all be dead by 23 and we laughed and made a bet 4 the chance. An ATV ate Ann at 18 and then a fancy cable hung by Althea came next. Hadn’t even nudged me 4 that plan. And when death happen that way, we can’t talk any decent way.

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Safaya
by Hal Bernhoft

2019

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a Fortune Cookie covered in mold
by Ricky de Guzman

what happens to the pearls of Cebu—
some will choose to strike
for a kiss and a slice of mango under a Narra tree
the seed of a Lanzones is licked into a backwoods blunt
with the tongue-in-cheek vibe that let me
grow into edible leaves
a Sampaguita on the road
being sold
by an off-white Virginia Woolf
that you will never see

these tricks and trades of the know-how
when men see; Nature as a 3rd degree flavor of the week

a whole roasted pig with an apple in its mouth
stuffed into a Fortune Cookie covered in mold
down into the whole
a white rabbit wrapped in translucent sugar paper will reflect itself-
until you realize that every lockjaw moment
sets up a sort of tenderness in the bottleneck service you call for at night

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i want to be planted
by Suzie Kassouf

I want to be planted
Like the cucumber seeds in the garden.
Half an inch deep,
Eighteen inches apart.

Sleepy, and sinking,
Surrounded by the dancing of hungry little worms.
Wet with the smell of dirt
And wandering cherry blossoms.

Just a little more time until I’m ready
To be like the picture on the packet.
Reaching, climbing, sweetly, quietly,
Yellow flowers and all.

It’s funny to think:
So much of growing
Is really just lying down.