"…I’m just sort of putting my ear against the thing and trying to discern its heartbeat…”
FICTION | NONFICTION | POETRY |
TRANSLATION
SUBMIT STORE DONATE OPPORTUNITIES INTERVIEWS WRITERS WE PUBLISH
"…I’m just sort of putting my ear against the thing and trying to discern its heartbeat…”
“He loved the sense that sex could be an intervention between two people.”
“the ghosts drag me by my hair and their hands”
“When you start out as a writer, you really never know what’s going to happen. Will anyone ever read your work?”
“You can tell a lot about a person by their Starbucks order.”
“I’ve seen too much writing lately that makes metaphors of hunger.”
“… I told them / about the strange animal living in my throat.”
“And all along, what happened to that thing we had originally wanted?”
“I exist alone while here inside I dwell with my friends / and also with my dead”
“Words are like heartbeats: sooner or later, we will run out.”
“Sometimes, when night is deep, / I remember how red leather my heart is”
“Normally to be standing wet and naked covered in someone’s shaved hair would be disgusting. And it was.”
“Hard is the edge of a shadow attached to a blade that drips”
“…your hunger became less interesting. Home had been there waiting, right inside of you.”
Submission window closes on 6/30/23
“Under the grieving trees / sways an infinite loneliness.”
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