Yes, And

By Amorak Huey    If I say everything is a gun you have to say yes, and the gun is always going off. If I say someone could get hurt, you have to say yes, and that’s what it means to be alive. I say, does it have to be like that? You say yes, and … More Yes, And


By Dick Allen On December 27, 2017, the poet Dick Allen passed away. He had a long and productive writing career, publishing several collections including, most recently, This Shadowy Place, which won the 2013 New Criterion Poetry Prize, as well as Present Vanishing: Poems (2008). Former poet laureate of the state of Connecticut, Allen retired … More Solace


By Roshie Xing i. Innocence The first time it happened, I was ten. Almost ten and a quarter, I liked to protest. Numbers are such a big deal when you’re young. It was near the end of the day when they herded us into the auditorium, the sound of children chattering a fluid undercurrent of … More Again

Wonder Bread

By Angele Ellis   Denied toy guns by Mother, my brothers sculpted barrels & triggers from Wonder Bread, clown-spotted loaves of soft white slices promising to build strong bodies twelve ways. Outdoing the Commandments, which in those years of gray censorship wavering across a convex screen, we watched broken every day. I don’t just mean cops … More Wonder Bread

At this rate, all our disappearances

By Suzanne Edison Light and movement destroy the materiality of bodies—Futurist Manifesto Speed of atoms colliding, heating, like our arguments boil and steam, splitting us apart. The guns you insist on keeping, locked and stowed, the ammo separately hidden, incite my fears: speed of bullets, bodies as wave or particle. Would you or I…ever turn … More At this rate, all our disappearances

A White Cop

By Liane Ellison Norman stops a black man, his girlfriend, their child, though it’s not clear why they’ve been stopped. The black man explains— carefully, politely, that he has a gun, slowly brings it from where it’s kept. The white cop fills the black man full of bullets, which is where— increasingly— white cops seem … More A White Cop

Open a Window

By Amy Small-McKinney for air, notice the airlessness of bodies piled up like newspapers, the airlessness of fear, not the kind you feel on a mountain ledge when you don’t trust your body’s sense of balance, rather the kind you can’t imagine— someone you never met will kill you— has planned to kill you for … More Open a Window


By Sophie Segura We reckon, in heartbeats, the time it takes paper to parachute-float through the drag. The lull between bullets. Nimble through pencil-case shrapnel, obstacle run of flesh and metal. Dumb, sudden experts at holding our breath. Later, they’ll discover an underachieving bomb, erect a metal detector, monument. We’ll try to ignore invisible outlines … More Elevenses