I have washed my hands thirty-four times today but my hands are still stained with last January.
Read Morebecause your kisses remind me of light plums and golden chains and full mugs of all our favorite caffeinated drinks and everytime i wake up in these panics i remember why i hate january
Read MorePoetry by Bridget Gwyn.
Read Morehistory repeats itself. don’t you know? [by Chloe Johnston]
Read MoreA month ago, we asked 50+ participants to create work relating to COVID-19 over the course of 24 hours, and then pulled our favourite lines from each one to form a collective experience through a single poem. Following the cycles of human nature and grief, this is a love letter to the people who helped create it.
Read MoreShowers felt warmer, and sleeping wasn’t lonely.
Read More“we live to rebel but are so afraid of being caught”
Read Morethe motel sign buzz of his lips down my spine
Read MoreMy professor said something about entropy. Everything is continuing toward chaos, or something to that extent.
Read MoreIt is like a scrapbook filled with people, lessons, the sad times, the good times, art that I’ve created and collected, and art that was given to me.
Read Moreem glasser blurs the lines between poetry and song, photography and music.
Read MoreAt 18 my mom was recently married children on the way / The home that she grew up is not the same as mine / The leisure they were given has never crossed my mind.
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