Monday, November 27, 2017


Behind dark glasses I am enormously present
                                      wading in a pool of flickering light
                          algal at the edges
                                                like a sick green dream of California

where dragonflies dip and skim
       the surface of the lightly poisoned water
                                                         some of them
                                      coupling on the fly
                   as if sex wasn’t already awkward

when I fuck I hardly levitate at all
                                  and when I dive
                             beneath the water
       I want to be detached

from the searing world above but how
                                                does one stop caring

when there are so many
                     voices calling
                          where are you where are you
                   come up there are snacks

so I swim back
                          to frozen grapes and lemonade
                   to the teenaged boys strolling by
                          with fishing poles and bait

while the young girls spin
                 on tire swings and scream to go faster
as if there was some shortage in the world
                          of speed or disaster

- Rebecca Hazelton, originally published by Typo Magazine

Sonnet in Which My Therapist Makes an Appearance

Sonnet in Which My Therapist Makes an Appearance
by  Kelly Lorraine Andrews

I see a crane crashing into the house
like on Beetlejuice and my dad says
it’s your favorite movie! but it’s not
and I tell him so and all he wanted
was to have something in common with me.
What if I’m not capable of ever
dating a man again or maybe even
anyone, and what then? what’s it look like
when I mother myself? or who am I
rebelling against when, oops, I “forgot”
to brush my teeth last night? no one taught me
how to emotionally regulate,
my therapist likes to say. and she’s right,
I need to figure out how to feel safe.

originally published on Uppagus 

Wednesday, October 11, 2017


by Hoa Nguyen

What your dark eyes take back
to itself, hugged in a curve
of toughness. The land between us is flat.
Let's say we are ruined, Minneapolis,
bricked against ourselves. A red rag
in the kitchen. This isn't important or I am.

I never wanted to touch you
and still do. How can we pray or find
what collects in heaven, Father?
I'd be surprised by elegance,
meaning something like rugs
and leather. Soft and tough. This.

I want belief like this. Leaving
the sea is a rag doll I once was. Texas
clouds in dreams, swinging. My loving you
once, mud puddle, swing set.

from Red Juice. pg 45