35.1 Summer/Fall 2022


Minotaur

Amy Roa

On my swallowed stone, I painted the weather inside a zebra stripe.


Poetry, Fiction, & Nonfiction

SELF-PORTRAIT AS SURGICAL MASK ON REARVIEW MIRROR

Timothy Liu

though I do // look pretty good / slung over // where a pair // of hot pink / fuzzy dice // used to hang—

The Middle

Sandra Simonds

As long as I have been old enough to understand what the middle class is, it has been described as “shrinking.”

’92 Volvo 240

D.S. Waldman

How the distances collapse when / moving at speed, several instances of relapse folded until one prolonged scene, an / abrupt start from sleep.

Women's Health

Bailey Cunningham

Shelly is fifteen years old, and she is alive today. Shelly is only sometimes alive. Sometimes she is dead.

Baby It’s Bold Outside | Gelish®

Noel Quiñones

Call it oxymoron, where to shed is to gain worship, / polish escaping into the hidden temples of my teeth.

houston living room

Jonathan Chan

he is remembered // like a stoic painting. it looms over / his organ, static from years // untouched, nesting nutcracker
 / and country hymnal.

EVERYBODY AT THE SAME TIME IS BEGINNING TO UNDERSTAND THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A SELF

Joshua Jennifer Espinoza

You love to see it—discrete individual units realizing they are not / at all that. Like a grass field caught in wind, finally understanding / its purpose, I breathe with the sound of God breathing.

Weather Sonnet #4

Anya Ventura

I get a haircut and scrub the stove, feeling unpeeled / from the old terror.

Sky Islands

Don Stap

In early May we are driving south from Phoenix on Interstate 10. The land in every direction is sparsely vegetated—saguaro cactus, organ pipe cholla, barrel cactus, and mesquite. Dust blows across this big sandbox. The sky is hazy. To the east, in the distance, are what appear to be massive heaps of dirt left over from some grand construction project gone wrong. But this is a trick of light.

God Chooses the Wheelbarrow

Dustin M. Hoffman

Online Exclusive fiction from Dustin Hoffman.

Menarche

J.J. Starr McClain

No one said much / just / this makes virgins, that // makes pollution.

Clouds and Us

Rodrigo Toscano

we can all agree / no jobs for clouds / unconscious drifters

FINDING PHANTASIA

Sara Deniz Akant

But come on, even Eve ate a dead baby dino. / Adam was still munching on his apples like a dweeb.

The Doorbell

Candice Wuehle

After Graham stopped returning my texts, I started leaving little parts of myself all over the Internet. In his early twenties, especially, Graham left doorways to himself everywhere—not just the normal abandoned social portals of MySpace and Friendster, but also a blog with a cursor shaped like a hot pink mouth. When I clicked on an entry, the disembodied lips smacked. Sickened, I kept clicking as the computerized sucking noise pulled me into page after page of journal entries, photos, digital check-ins at bars where he’d time-stamped his arrival.

The Cost of the Show

Jessica Lee Richardson

Online Exclusive fiction from Jessica Lee Richardson.

Mount

Matthew Mastricova

I had not yet labeled myself but felt the pull of men irresistible. I was drawn to a boy and examined every tether but the core one, that I wanted him to feel the same for me and I knew he didn’t. I spent the entirety of that year mourning our potential. I was prepared for Elegy Month.

With the p.t. on the first day

Kevin McIlvoy

Could I not want / the justice and / the sentence and / the jail of a goal?

Minotaur

Amy Roa

On my swallowed stone, I painted the weather inside a zebra stripe.

Pigeon Cove Harbor

Martha Webster

clean of me, my rod, / creel, sturdy / shoes, jack knife.

SONG WITH MUSCLE MILK

Sara Deniz Akant

Take this cryptic correspondence as – a sound bite skirts my wonder.

Oceans and Mountains: Dissecting Bashō’s Hokku

Darcy Jay Gagnon

Online Exclusives non-fiction from Darcy Jay Gagnon.

ARS POETICA AFTER ANDY GOLDSWORTHY

Janelle Tan

only the two rocks holding each other know / where they find balance.

Drop of the Sea

Brigitte Lewis

When she is young, the name “Mary” is very common. If Social Security records for the ranked popularity of baby names in any given year went back to the first century, “Mary” would be number one on the list for hundreds of years. Sometimes, when she is meeting a person for the first time, they ask her if she likes her name. Sure, she replies. It turns out they usually have an aunt or a great-aunt, a teacher or a boss, named Mary of whom they are not very fond.

Shift

Edie Quinn

"Do you ever feel like/ you're just living/ the same day / over/ and over / and over again."


From the Archives

Devils, Our Sons

Karissa Chen

Our sons told us to place the steel cleavers we used to butcher hogs and chickens beneath our pillows, in case our enemies appeared.

Disability Seen Through Photographs, Darkly

Pepper Stetler

The people whom Arbus photographed were probably separated from their families when they were born. Their mothers and fathers were most likely told that they would be too much of a burden to raise. However, none of this is really what we are supposed to be thinking about when viewing the Untitled series. We are told to think about the compositional choices, the lighting, the true talent of Arbus who discovered these subjects.

Three Queen Poems

Taisia Kitaiskaia

QUEEN AT A PARTY   Does the green dress sheath Herself, brain included? Married others shift limb to limb, parakeets on a wire.   Madrigal, bloodrigal,…

Prince Shakur’s When They Tell You to Be Good

Ishena Robinson

In his award-winning debut memoir When They Tell You to Be Good, author and activist Prince Shakur vividly captures and decodes lived experiences that…