Two Poems | L.A. Weeks

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Dreamscapes from the Atlas of Coming and Going VII Because Ayyappa Paniker wrote, the broken words that fade out, pieces of murmur float downfrom the ceiling fan. Almost forgotten–the blinds slatting streetlight

Yes, but no | Choo En Ting

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because even immortal things diewhen touched by love.1Like a winter fingerdown a wingless2 spine.Still, Madame Butterfly,the world3 is largerbecause of the leaving.4There is more to life5than6 resurrection7. [1] Bread. Ice. God. Tears.Night

In Secret | John Muellner

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It’s not worth mentioningthat in the middle of MonopolyI pulled a cherry cough drop from my pocketeven though he had declined. Tough guy.That I heard it clink against his teeth.That I still

The Wanderer | Joshua Lillie

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I come to this place when sentiments arise that I can’t revive in polite conversation. Like when The Wanderer comes on the radio at work and I’m reminded of how it was

Two Poems | Farrah Fang

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Survival Kills You no longer maintain loyalty to land or certificates of existence. “Farrah” translates to “happiness”. With a slick tremor to the lower back, radio waves ( c r a s

from River of Love | Kami Enzie

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Kami Enzie (he/him) is a Vienna-born, New Orleans-raised writer. Work appears in Chicago Review, The Glacier, Image, Oversound, The Poetry Review, and swamp pink. He is an alumnus of Tin House Winter

Winter Aubade | Crystal Cox

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Our breath is louder on the silence of snowfall,but I can’t help missing the rain. Lately, I’ve curledinto the shape of his body until I’m formless, our sheetsclean but still hinting at