Art

Now We Can Start a Family – Cassie Vogel

Difficult, yes, to live one’s childhood
inside a closet. Men are stray
damage, the sound
of flesh hastening to
an absence in college. One fills
a dress sleeve with a leg,
a dress wrapped in a garbage bag with
flesh and
damaged men. If it is meant,
wings carry water to
the sound of flesh hastening: pinned to
the sleeve of a rippling fabric
popped for divorce.

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Art

Weimaraner Owners Worldwide – David Lohrey

My dream is to own two and a half dozen curly-haired
pigs. That’s not all: I’d also like a Jag, a five-bedroom 
country house, and a bag of M&M’s. There, I’ve said it. 
As I have none of the above, I live in misery. I think of 
nothing but of doing myself in. 

My professor Sequoia Takamatsu insists we be nice.
She asks if I agree.

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Stories

In God We Trust – Phoebe Marmura

She has big hair. On the bedside tables are thick, sturdy candles. The bed is cashmere. Everything has weight like it has just spawned from the ocean. The ocean is outside the bedroom window. She is widowed and, on the phone, she says she is looking for touch. A man comes over, sits beside her on the edge of the bed and begins to touch her. Her sweater is baby blue and cashmere;

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Stories

Tangled Up in You – Gwen Hilton

        I’m trying to date men. I’m trying to convince men to go on dates with me in public. It is easy to fuck men. A date in public is two people sitting across from each other at a restaurant and talking. This is so rare for me. It doesn’t have to be anything that looks like a date. I cannot convince anyone except cis women to go on dates with me in public.

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