after Solmaz Sharif’s essay The Near Transitive Properties of the Political and Poetical: Erasure On Facebook, a Filipino writer...

Where does it go? The madness, I mean. Thornton tells me to bite down on a piece of rubber. He tells me that I won’t remember a thing. I...

Mother never waved me off on the school bus. Julia's Mum ran alongside the bus, blowing kisses as it rolled away. Mesmerised, I watched...

That’s what Mama says I should be doing when Dooley Parker hasn’t called. When he’s gone on his monthly like he does on the regular. When...

Candles Word Salad (Som Tam) Rob Stuart was born in Cambridge, England, in 1972. His poems and short stories have been published in...

broken toy & lemon juice when i clean the tank hands tacky with fish muck pebbles make a pit of house to weave through me & you &...

Freedom 21 She awoke that morning, to discover everything had altered overnight; skies brighter blue, room calmer space, bedclothes...

Filter.tint/Forestgrove silence, streams in the forest we cry out to false gods—ourselves, make manifest dreams, soft...

I’ve been swallowing glue to fill up the places that could leak spreading it from headtotoe as a second layer of hardening skin...

deepfake. The gals got me good. She’s two or three layers down, minimum. deepfake. She’s someone, then someone else. Now she bears the...