ISSUE #12

Noise Rochelle Potkar Plums at Night Natalie Crick I like to think I’d yet manage…

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Every Night We Hear Planes by J. Marcus Weekley

                        from a phrase in a letter by a French woman in They Speak for a Nation their eagle business, dropping their exploding turds on our little heads. But, we are only civilians and…

Numberless by Tiana Lavrova

Cacti of frost: collars of lymph nodes stretched out as snowballs tinsel the soft tissue of blizzards; irises of snowbanks shade the eye wear of seaweed pines hoarding Diogenesian automobiles, the pines…

Two Poems by Briony Hughes

female i am hung on the washing line not to dry iiiiiiibut to fumigate beneath my feet copper rage my drug of choice migrates to my iiiiilips lifted by women standing on the…

Taylor by Ogbewe Amadin

  The summer wind left a trail of brown leaves across the compound. It was the same every dry season, but there was no security guard to keep the place tidy now.…

Saaz Libre by Debasish Parashar

Your body is a barkhan diminishing at the tip of my fingers I thought but, you become more than a body In the process I age myself as a raaga Hamsadhwani mutates…

Letters by Matthew Kynaston

When I was a child I would write letters to people and not send them. I wrote letters to the girl I liked but was too afraid to talk to. She was…

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