Our second issue featuring an amazing collection of work.
We stand apart because/when we look into heaven we don’t see God with his glass eye swivelling/ we see each other/ disjointed trying to get out because/if we look too closely we’ll taste blood because/the last time you took me in your arms i shook
These women were carved of mountains, harsh and discontent. The legacy they carry is fraught with ancestral miscommunication.
Poor mental health can keep us from writing. And yet it can also be the reason we write, to survive. To claw our way out of the sewer with our desperate words.
Hey! It’s me. That lady on the other side of your submission. COVID has made the process a purely virtual affair, so whether I’m currently wearing pants is a mystery! Here’s the quick and dirty: Anna is the name my parents gave me, Pazakova is one I
Everything we post on the internet stays there forever - except all that isn’t said. That is the basis of Calgary based author Vivek Shraya’s new novel, The Subtweet.
she is sunrise early morning coffee
by Rachel Shabalin The girl pulls the dial on the washing machine and watches the water bleed into the creases of her jeans. It’s one of those outdated models where the water jets out in a blade and the exterior echoes and pops when you sit on the lid.