“On Mothers and Daughters” by Rowan Aubrey Sloane

    My mother grew up moving. The only place she has told me about is Dayton, Ohio. She grew up moving, orbiting Wright-Patterson Air Force base where her father, the colonel, was stationed off and on. She grew up orbiting, but people aren’t satellites, and she doesn’t bring up her past much. The only thing she has told me about her childhood was that she moved around, and one time when she was angry she tied her brother to a tree. I try to imagine this. My mother, who goes to church twice a week, who told me once … Continue reading “On Mothers and Daughters” by Rowan Aubrey Sloane

A Series of 3 Poems by Samuel J. Fox

  An Update from Baptist Country   Like a ghost swallow, Christ was lifted into the wide, empty fields of heaven by the wind. Yes, wide. Indeed, empty.   You don’t want to die before you see the face of God in the eaves of a pink dogwood tree. If you don’t, you weren’t truly here now, were you?   The truth shall set you free: freely you shall set the truth.   In this story, for everything is a story, a boy listens to a preacher speak of hell as a place he will go for loving every mouth … Continue reading A Series of 3 Poems by Samuel J. Fox

“I SLICED INTO MY NAIL BED WITH A RAZOR BLADE BY ACCIDENT WHILE LISTENING TO RANCID AND WASHING OUT YELLOW HAIR DYE, AND DESPITE THIS BEING POSSIBLY THE MOST PUNK ROCK THING ABOUT ME, I STILL SCREAMED AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS, ‘OH FUCK'” by Kate Wilson

of course this is all to say I collected the droplets of blood in a little glass vial with a cork lid and added plant growth … Continue reading “I SLICED INTO MY NAIL BED WITH A RAZOR BLADE BY ACCIDENT WHILE LISTENING TO RANCID AND WASHING OUT YELLOW HAIR DYE, AND DESPITE THIS BEING POSSIBLY THE MOST PUNK ROCK THING ABOUT ME, I STILL SCREAMED AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS, ‘OH FUCK’” by Kate Wilson