How did I used to write poetry? I thought I would go on forever. If the well only bubbled up with dead tropes and gray-faced images, at least they were comfortable. Better than nothing at all. Â But now I find myself rushing to lit theory class on a November Thursday. The smell of dead […]
What makes us Different – Lady in White?  What makes us Broken – Clocks Looping in a Broken – Record A Scratch of Chalk? Our Chalkboard was – a Sidewalk  Your – Clock Is my Permission Slip – To Slip into my own – Pool Your Broken – Poetry –
I will stick Post-its to the wall behind the sink. I will spatter them with soap suds and water, let the ink blend into a paper mâché mass of every word that picked me up off the floor. I will leave dishes in the sink. I will not wash them before I load the dishwasher. […]
By Gabrielle Crone       Only a hillbilly would bring their injured dog to the vet using twine as a leash. At least that’s what our vet, Westley, announced when he saw my grandpa, Charles Bailey, in the lobby of the clinic twine leash in hand. Gizmo had injured his paw, most [&helli
By Julia Voyt Pages and pages of 12 size Times New Roman are bled across the paper feverishly, introductions and statistics under methods and conclusions. Not eating food and my bicep is smaller this week I talk faster to my family and I write, write, write. The earth outside smells different and sw
By Fara Ling Ah Ma,     A few weeks ago, I realized I have never written Ah Ma a letter. That means I have never told Ah Ma I love you. There’s no way to say it in Hokkien, Ah Ma’s mother tongue. Forcing the syllables wa ai lu to sit next to […]