After Jennifer S. Cheng 1: the sea captured in a glass 2: a homophone for having enough for leftovers, a synonym for abundance 3: the fish, who have already forgotten you. It’s not personal 4: where memory fails, there’s still imagining 5: you. Not as an ocean but outside 6: glass and/or acrylic
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* Voltage-gated pathways are depolarizedand pore-forming membrane proteinsallow calcium influx from adjacent solutions. (Cell insides become saturated) Excitation is mossy fiber runningsouthbound head-stems and paired shootsthrough once-relaxed tissue. * You’ve established rules,preventative
Brenda K. Marshall’s first novel, Mavis, was published in 1996 (Fawcett-Columbine), and
What separates us from our lives / is a see-through thing. /
Harrison Candelaria Fletcher is the author of Descanso for My Father (2012), Presentimiento (2016), and Finding Querencia: Essays from In Between (2022). His work has appeared widely in such venues as New
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
1.if you look closely—and you will—you’ll see not parts, but the suggestion of parts. the only limit isthe imagination, which naturally, turns to sex. did you ever play the original sims? did
The silence to which each sound returns, arises is always pooling. And within that pool, another silence upwells, creating caverns and currents, rooms and halls and roads— What does the mind do
Empty your mind, be formless, shapeless like water.Now, you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup.Now, water can flow or it can crash.Be water. —Bruce Lee 1. When the lineup
LM Brimmer is a co-editor of the anthology Queer Voices: Poetry, Prose and Pride (2019); their essays and poetry have recently appeared in The Colorado Review, Heavy Feather Review, Tiny Spoon Lit
Once upon a time, when a flatbread made from jowar flour called the bhakri was an item of great value, when all your neighbours were distant or close relatives, when the king
Once upon a time there was a whale who no one understood. She swam up and down the Pacific, calling out in a pitch so high that other whales ignored her. Once
I’ve always balked at playing scalesbut I’ll stand on a girderhipshot in floral board shorts,a vintage weirdo pokingthe membrane between here and now.⠀ I need my sea green eyeshadesto scan this fiddly
My heart, a jackalbecoming wild,for beholdingat a distance.⠀ I wake up unrelenting.I stay that way forever.⠀ No sound but a sirenfrom my mouth.I sit in the stainand gnash at myself.⠀ All animal,
