Ode to a Recurring Nightmare

Poem by Zoe Shelton Art by Keeley Sieben waking up at regular intervals whether in my  own bed or  someone else’s— yours even. although it confuses me, when at one moment you are screaming at me for having forgotten  to pack our moon shoes because we are leaving for mars within the half-hour, and the

Ultra Violet Outlook

Poem by Mark Cameron Art by Haley Cheng We are calling for halfmoon sunburns on the bare backs of teenagers with periods of Magnum bars at sundown. The Entertainer will play on repeat, Serving You Since 2011.   Expect an increase in airborne predators. Russian dolls in flight, an iterative dining experience.   Darkness will

The Woman’s Voyeur

Poem by Jenna Conradie Art by Amy Ng I am an atheist, yet I find myself  Searching for right angles in the clouds  Checking to see if that eyelash wish came true  Bargaining to popcorn ceilings when I fall short    I am an atheist, yet I find myself  Preparing to be seen when there’s

Love in Saccharine

Poem by Czarain Laqui Art by Aiza Bragg Feet flat against a dusty floor: a layer of dead skin cells and dog fur — this is Home — but she is empty. Suffocation in all her trinkets whispering maudlin memories; Humid breath, Viscid lips.   Kiss her goodbye before brushing your teeth and welcoming morning.

new endings.

Poem by Saffah Ibrahimi Art by Haley Cheng She’s sitting across from me, making paper planes out of old homework sheets. She tells me to join her, delicate fingers pressing against the ink of her last sociology final. Did you know we make our first impressions within one-tenth of a second? Did you know I

The Crying of the Locust

Poem by Sally Elhennawy Art by Aiza Bragg the hay stalks whistle ‘neath the dunes a weathered tree              stands on a hill silence settles on the desert at noon a heavy quiet, hot and still. it seems no life can flourish here,  deep within this hollow land, as rock erodes,   year   after     year, and crumbles

nocuous living

Poem by Gurnoor Powar Art by Keeley Sieban A little girl Flying on her toes Digging them into the soft wet dirt As she spins An anchor So that she doesn’t fall The anklets adorning her feet Singing as they rub against her skin Chafing the delicate bone She allows the sun to shine Through

I changed my name Here

Poem by Rehema Ivan Art by Karen Zhang Two names live on my tongue  resting, twirling, clashing  Both call. Speak one.  Swallow the Other. Let her pierce my mouth as I draw lips closed– Let me smile at you, red running down my chin– Let me not cry bringing you and me together; Nor sigh,

an elegy to gold

Poem by Grace Payne Art by Athena Li I met you in the summer heat— forever fated fever dream. still with your love, I turn water to steam slowly you seep into every rivet  trailing my lips for a fine sweet minute the most sugary maple tree could never compare to thee such pleasure to

Love is (unapologetically) love

Sonnet by Sally Elhennawy Art by Luiza Ortiz If I could show the world my love for you,I’d speak my truth a hundred thousand times.My wary heart would start to love anewAnd our passions would constitute no crimes.If our tale of love was acceptable,I’d sweep you away in the city streets;We would no longer be

Come and See

Poem by Luka Poljak Art by Aiza Bragg Come and See Content Warning: Mentions of war, genocide, violent imagery, and animal cruelty A boy and girl starving in a butchered village Digging up anything so he can Feed me. Feed me.  The mutilated house they find with wooden hard hands Their tongues molest an empty

Postcard from Vancouver to Home

Poem by Rachel Helwig-Henseleit Art by Amy Ng Vancouver is turning my skin porcelain.There is sun here—between the rain spellsbut, I spend most of my time at home. Outside, the wind blows through holesin my sweater—it’s a kind ofintimacy, like the city itself is holding me. Honestly, I miss your hugs the most.

In Variation

Poem by Dax Avery Hamouth Art by Amy Ng in twists and knotsthe willow treebirthsa sighstretched out into eternity: biological processesmimicked overandover,named Miracle,dressed in red twine bindings, and cell tide mindings; fingers crossingcaught boundin incorrection to one letter wrong skin stretches overmuscle and fat:canvas over easel wood– am Ipainted wrong?  details of my geometryclashing with tastesof different

at the bus stop, a tired boy speaks to death

Poem by Kayla Wilford Art by Karen Zhang the boy is barely a man, black clothes veiling frail bonesand a victorian disposition under moonlight and mist.he sits on a sad corner street under neon lightand butchers meat and wonders where to go. but the concrete is cold, frozen feet tucked underthe dim gold of bus