SANCTUM
GEORGE DIBBLE
Star.
Light.
Light.
Light.
POEM X3
BERNARD COHEN
The heat broke, leaving
millions of
Destitute businessmen,
black slimes
After fernet and healthy
snacks
And a blowout
GLORY, GLORY, HALLELUJAH
MAX TULLIO
Ohh
Ohhhhh
Ohhhhhhhhh
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Ah
Ahh
MUSIC FOR AIRPORTS / REDEEM
OWEN AVERY
Except the sound is brutal and the feeling is quiet
ABANDONMENT / BEEP / COLOR THEORY
ATSUSHI IKEDA
The grace framing the trees
Crossed ankles on a wavering doll
No, hope was never material
I imagined myself in contacts—
Thinned to delusion
I saw better
CANNIBAL LETTERS
CONOR HULTMAN
Anyanini
In 1894,
John Depp,
a Chinese American,
bought a book and rented a hotel room in San Francisco.
It was a university.
TRANSFIGURATION / KOI
CLETUS CROW
i miss my
old fourteenth floor
apartment
no one could see
that high up
OMAHA
JACOB PATRICK BROOKS
I fork the $60 over and chainsmoke in the dark. A bus rumbles into the parking lot, yellow LED letters spell “OMAHA” across the front. The headlights are bright, blinding me as the bus whips around into the boarding area out back. I cut through the station. The man that sold me the ticket is asleep at his computer, I can hear him snoring from 20 feet away.
I’M SO AMERICAN
LIZZIE SCHEADER
HAVING SEX FOR DINNER
WHILE BETWEEN
CHECKS.
WE LEAVE
SMELLING LIKE
EACH OTHER,
AS THE OUTSIDE
WORLD
BEGINS TO SMELL
LIKE SEPTEMBER.
MXYZPTLK + PANOPTICON
UZODINMA OKEHI
Following this same guy. Traipsing, loping walk, his two-hundred dollar hiking boots, bobbing, knit cap, bouncy 7am mushroom coffee motor, ruddered by his still-wet, silly little ponytail . . .
THERE WILL SOON COME A DAY
AMALIA MAIRET
Summer is ending and everyone is gone, for good this time. Like every year, I’ve been trying to write about leaving. For months it’s been bubbling away to no avail. In May, I made excuses. I’m in the moment still, haven’t left yet.
AT THE LOCAL POOL I AM
MAX SCHWARTZ
pepper sprayed with sunscreen
on top of a swim shirt,
knowing more facts than a six year old
should about youth melanoma
and other various skin cancers
spouted from an anxious, pale,
jewish mother
POEMS FROM JESUSLAND
MAXWELL NORMAN
resonance.
resonance x doyalike
resonance x genesis x not allowed
resonance (slowed + reverb)
resonance.
SPIRITUALLY SPEAKING
CASPER KELLY
I ruined a funeral
On the Family Guy role play server
Facebook memorial
Pages go on and on
ZUIDBROEK
KAT MULLIGAN
He was crucified on the Lenin statue in Zuidbroek.
I rushed from Amsterdam when the news declared it, cold as anemia, and left his body to sag on thousands of VCRs. I packed nothing but a gum wrapper in my haste, and when I arrived in Zuidbroek, there he faithfully was—stretched across Volodya’s saluting arm, his palms good for nothing but nails.
THIS IS ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT ME
JACK LUDKEY
There was a cowboy that lived in New York City. He was what Latinos called a bad hombre. He had a six-shooter that always, always shot every shot. If he didn’t hit his target, he would always hit something. For a normal bueno person, this heightened risk of hitting an innocent woman or child would make this weapon unconscionable. But this was a bad, bad hombre.
TONIGHT WE WON’T EVER DIE
JON LEON
We were at a dance party
It was like a beach party
Sometime around the time
You were single and raging
Before performing gave you a stroke
APOCALYPSING
M. ELIZABETH SCOTT / JACK SCHAAF
In Apocalypsing, M. Elizabeth Scott’s visions hum with heat: the organic heat of the flame flower’s sleep, the biological heat of bacterial growth, the liberating heat of apocalyptic flame. Her poems bask in the heat of the luminous and dread the silent dark.
TWIN GOSSIP
GWEN AUBE
i am flanked by eerily handsome twins
running the new mile end reading series.
one probes me for my lore
--o yea so i’m from windsor,
it’s like south ontario, across from detroit.
i say this every time, centering my proximity
to america—back home this is embarrassing,
but here it plays off with intrigue.
FINGER GUNS
PETER HOPE
Sunlight felt sterile. And it was never quiet, but somehow an odd hush spread through eerie hallways. I’d notice these things while working at a mental hospital. My car sitting idle outside, waiting for me, was a source of reprieve. On break, I’d glide my feet through grass, and bugs would be chirping and buzzing around me.