by Blair Hamelink

“I hear a tickling from the bastardized voice / & the windmill of my rot / blows upon my hair / it seems, I’ve gone public / priest of the milkyway, Vincent: / I’m your man…”

by Michael Borth

“It is obvious in the aura of the green light of Honduras / Intersected by the wounds of the martyr, by the mother / Praying silver on the historical hill of the true cross…”

by Nate Tulay

“Somewhere in Liberia, / where the rain is falling heavy again… / as the effects of the edibles / start to kick in.”

by KG Miles

“‘To all the Judys, love Mr Punch’.”

by Özge Lena

“She wore herself as an ordinary error proudly.“

by Travis Shosa

“Joshua Lampshade has swallowed / a disco ball, it’s a peach pit vessel / of retro kitsch.”

by Courtney Leigh

“It’s delulu to want everyone to like you / they’re always so ungiving—I want to not give / but to value the remaining fucks I’ve got.”

by Eva Alter

“…the distance between myself and the world / was so narrow it was invisible—…”                        

by Mark Belair

“Do not use horse hooves / as step or footrest…”

by Jesse Hilson

“I’d been alive a week when they sheared off / My penis, or a part. The doc had drunk / A martini, or two, and off skin came…”

by Sophia Carroll

“The problem is antipsychotics / don’t get me as high as Icarus…”

by Anne B. Maydew

“auras / shift/ beneath / the / currents / of / the / world”

by L. Ward Abel

“Funny the way you picture a place / never squares with the real one…”

by Sarah Rosenthal

“On the surface of the box are embroidered objects that resemble butterflies or flowers; a poem threads its way in between these decorations.”

by Brandon Diehl

“I dug through the boxes, half-watching / Jason X on the TV, trying to be festive.”

by Chloe Wheeler

“i’m messaging someone / seeking connection / tapped into Link NYC / for free Wifi…”

by Jan Hassmann

“…it's taped up with a black X and the low E slithers and sways like a sidewinder in the slow narcotic strobe and the room crackles as you hit the fuzz and drench the surging pit…”

by Howie Good

“Ghost. Hangman. The names of games we used to play as kids while waiting for the rain to stop or the school bus to come or our normal daily suffering to be avenged.”

by Sreelekha Chatterjee

“Watery in action, watery in emotions— / brain, heart, lungs, skin, muscles, / kidneys, bones—images seated within, / mirroring their masts.”