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Five Poems
by Damon Hubbs//| PoemsLit crit with the speedo architect aw god what a narky bitch
When lambo, buy the dip
two suicides off the Williamsburg Bridge
Deadass
by Mallory Smart//| FictionWe weren’t close. Just basement cousins. Shared trauma, seasonal allergies, and a group text nobody knows how to leave. Holiday filler. Whispered commentary while the adults got loud in that…
Let’s Start from an Earlier Block of Save Data
by Brandon Diehl//| PoemsI remember the first time we played Minecraft. Years ago. We spawned in a barren snow biome. Resources were scarce. We needed food, so we killed some cows and pigs…
The Last, Great Letter-Writer
by Sean Ennis//| FictionMy friend Shadow wrote me a note the first time I took care of his dog, Apple. I’ve kept it as a valuable reference, and also like a wartime letter…
Grant-funded Missing Men
by Lydia-Mae//| FictionAs you all know, with the help of our generous donors, I have been studying the relationship between men, rats, hope, and arrogance, and have prepared a general overview of…
Diaries
by Brian Stephen Ellis//| FictionSam was older than me and one of her nipples was pierced and I did whatever she said. I was barely a person, more of an ill-fit together explosion of…
A Ghost Like You
by Katelyn Convery//| EssaysI knew Paula was lying about the way Bruce had died. She claimed he’d become so depressed that he retreated to his bed and did not eat or drink for many days. When his friends’ calls went unanswered, one of them went to check on him and found him barely conscious, lying in urine-soaked sheets. As we spoke, I heard the line crackle.
The People’s Champ
by Kyle Kouri//| FictionWe called Kofi the People’s Champ because he was the only manager at the Vide Hotel that didn’t care about us drinking on the job and, in fact, would sometimes hit joints with us in the bell closet.
The Bee Charmer
by Lauren Mantis//| PoemsThere’s a woman in town who performs healing with a net. I pay to watch the show, front row, metal folding chair creaking in the spring grass, half-brown, half-waking. She…
Ben Wiley Burns in Hell
by Jan Stinchcomb//| FictionWhen we were freshmen you told me all the cool kids take flowers out to Carrie White’s grave on the night of prom. (The grave belonged to some poor woman…