While submissions are still open for all students and on all topics, we are currently interested in works that are focused on matters of racial identity, esp...

Eve’s ribs caved inward— Her silhouette misshapen pieces of raw clay So, she grabbed an ambrosia And shoved it down Adam’s throat Grinning as the garden rott...

before she was ripped from her life, leah herman wore a blue dress from her grandmother frills and tiny yellow flowers these yellow flowers sharpened into ye...

is it a line drawn with sidewalk chalk by a four year old on a rocky pavement, so crooked you can hardly tell it’s a line but both sides of it look the same,...

A baby picture of my uncle sits atop a slightly faded, old and overlooked bookshelf. Next to him are art projects hidden from sight, but not hard to find. So...

I. i think there is a machine in my basement. it grinds with the thunder-roll of gears on gears, spits and flickers in binary love. if i’m not mistaken, it’s...

YOUR FREEDOM, when you finally find the means by which to claim it, feels like a song: a lone, tastefully cracked voice hovering over acoustic guitar, strumm...

I remember bare heels on warm concrete—rough and gritty, but oddly soothing, like sand between my toes. My shoes, carelessly discarded, tangled together unde...

It was almost a comfort to know that we could still dissolve into ourselves. The truth is that a body too familiar ...

When you're done reading the three new works we've published today, learn a little about our staff.

Them The reflection I see upon myself is one of constant change I am a woman, One filled with rage. Life is tough to the core, That is no secret, But being a...

The Stages of Falling in Love with Her One When I meet her we bask in the rays of the sun Weaving thorns into golden summer crowns She is tapping hymns on my...

Reflections “Hi,” I say. “Hi,” she echoes back. “How are you?” “How are you?” We lock eyes. A perpetual pity radiates from the depths of her emerald eyes. Th...

The Met Museums have a funny way of making me like myself more. I say this after years of being pulled along with my parents to lots of different ones; at so...

50 50: A Sociological Study Into the Balance of Couple Dominance Within Controlled Environments Such As One Dicot of Attracted Specimen Consuming a Single Se...

Remorse The moon is blue today— I can’t explain why the daffodils are all daisies their dewdrops smell like cinnamon with a strong aftertaste of extra virgi...

Fickle Little Lullabies & Short Term Memory Loss I yearn to remember the fleeting, Every warm idea Disappearing, the way every distant light in the winter se...

Click here to read our interview with "poet, blogger, and advocate for the literary arts," Trish Hopkinson! We were thrilled to talk with her and share info...

Little Husbands I used to play with them Climbing trees like the branches weren’t tapered I learned more from my scrapes (each one was unique) Than i did stu...

Wooden Chair Stiff, criss-crossing scaffolding, simultaneous rounded arches. Legs like Greco-Roman columns, and as ancient. With a glaze over, like the eyes ...