The bubbles of my words amuse him.He pokes them with a forward tentacleas they rise from my mouth. Biggerbubbles for longer words. I can feeland see rather than hear his giggling.See: yes. A tittering of the body,a gelatinous shake which assures mehe still likes me.—from Benjamin S. Grossberg’s “My Octopus Lover Is Easy . . .
Read More
You must be very tallto love the dark. You needsturdy legs and a heartthat struggles just enoughto bring your blood about themand raise it again to your head.You must feel in your chestthe finite days of its function.—from Dan Rosenberg’s “To Love the Dark,” Volume 66, Issue 2 (Summer 2025) Tell us . . .
Read More
I could not bless. I could not bleed.My body was hers from first tolast. To not say bruise or burntand when the neighbor lay medown and unbuttoned me one by one, I did not pray. I did not ask or say.—from Jessica Cuello’s “My Mother’s Daughter,” Volume 65, Issue 3 (Fall 2024) . . .
Read More
Are they pigeons? Fifth floor, other side ofthis giant window I know by heart theircomings/goings, their stayings-put on the still—from “The Pigeons,” Volume 66, Issue 2 (Summer 2025) Tell us about one of the first pieces you wrote. I wouldn’t call them poems really but as I walked home from St. Eugene’s School . . .
Read More
“That stigma isolated me from the many other gay men who share my experience. What a loss for all of us to be separated by our silence. Over the past four years, my new friend from the dating app helped me to speak in public about my rape, and I realized there . . .
Read More
It is cold, our voices carry like storksand the bonfire clashes with the stars.—from “Elegy at an Imminent End,” Volume 66, Issue 1 (Spring 2025) Tell us about one of the first pieces you wrote.I think my writing moved from random notebook rants to something more formal during my senior year of . . .
Read More
“There is a time machine in Princeton, New Jersey. I’ve been a patron from time to time. By all accounts, it’s been there since 1865. However, I wouldn’t discover it for some 154 years. To find it, one must make their way to the Princeton Junction railway station, accessible directly via New . . .
Read More
I. Evolution I dream of having wings. I fly in circlesabove the woods, out back beyondthe gate. My father raises a rifle at me,pulls the trigger. Shoots. Over & overhe misses, no matter how many times Icircle. The vacuum trailing each bullet, the wakes, & how my feathers fold into them. —from Jake Phillips’ “The . . .
Read More
“Afghanistan was just a name, too. He didn’t know where it was, other than on the other side of the world from his home in Palm Bay, Florida. He looked like every other fucking reservist, did the same drills, felt the same nothingness of each passing nothing day even when he sat . . .
Read More
1I have a lot of referencesmore than enough 2the reference is meand I’m proud of it 3I mirror me and lighten with painforming families of wordsbaby pictures and older little sisters the mirror is meit’s me my true selfand you deform us—from Catherine Theis’ translation of Jolanda Insana’s “I Said Nothing,” Volume . . .
Read More