bittersweet candies By Devarya Singhania Illustration | Jennifer Fong Li there were pit stops which reminded me of a time to escape from the monstrosity of Raman’s futile attacks on the imperfect curvature transcending above my belly, as the few speared marks made their appearance; it’s a circus of my misery translated into fifteen languages […]
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Illustration | Jennifer Fong Li The heartland howls to June bugs’ cries –metallic giants, they chirp and crawlthrough mazes of boxes that grow straight upfrom ground that bears the nests of stone. Below, the millipede rushes to work,it skids to a stop and opens its mouthsfor clouds of prey that billow and flow,rushing in-out,
Illustration | Jennifer Fong Li Crossing the border between one quintana and the nextWe move from the wild to the obsceneOf private wetlands and forestry, mortar and concreteUp against the golden River of Silver shoreline, a breathing carcinogenIt funnels the borderland between our place and the sun. There’s a Starbucks now, north of the
Seasick words by sydney pachecoillustration by natalie song I lay dormant enclosed by your four walls the overhead lights hug me as luminescence wraps me in blue I fall into you fully clothed I allow myself to sink into the waves of the sheets that surround as you manage to stay afloat my head bobs
static pressure words by max leesillustration by max lees Behind the wheel I weave threads of silk between transports and caravans, dodge bullets that glide under the dash into a sea of stars. You have a heavy foot like my mother You’re going too fast The underground lurches, squeals to keep up with the churning
Pan de Fiesta words by gabriel sanches-ortega “Se dice pan de fiesta,”My father says to me.Pan de fiesta,Bread for the feast. I held the image in my hands,But never knew its taste. In the playground of the schoolThey pull me by the arms.They accuse me of things I haven’t done.They do not speak my language.
The Death of a words and photo by ben murphy Derelict but dancing, He stands somewhere in between A grimace and a grin. What is he thinking? The posters on his window Are rendered inconsequential. Every sale couldn’t Keep the doors open, Couldn’t keep the children smiling. There’s a hole in the wall, His battle
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airflow words by max lees photos by max lees Paused, speechless swallowed by a tea mug gentle whispers rise up: cinnamon, cardamom, ginger Foot- steps fall leaves dance with the absurdity of Wednesday blown out of bounds by the eternal breath of October Soft on the sidewalk sunbeams tiptoe across the earth and stream
Illustration | Jennifer Fong Li Dear Professor / I hope you are well / I hope you are splendid / I hope you are in whichever headspace permits you to accept my humble extension request / I hope that your kids are getting good grades / that your oatmeal is plentiful with berries / that
