“Are you sure you want to do this child? Once we start there is no turning back, you’ll be bound forever.” An elderly woman asked the young boy. The two stood alone in the middle of an eerily silent forest, in front of an altar. The dense set of trees that surrounded them a wall from the outside world.The night sky above was shrouded by a veil of dark clouds. The altar, a circle made of bones with a pentagram painted in blood in the…Continue Reading “Happy Birthday by Marlon Mckay”
Junot Díaz, Dominican-American author, came to VCU’s campus Tuesday, September 12th, and it became apparent very quickly he did not come to talk about his books. With a casualness unexpected for the topics at hand, Professor Díaz went straight into his insightful perspective on the current state of American political affairs. His talk ranged from thoughts on community and education to patriarchy and privilege, and all the points that connect these aspects of our lives. Díaz disrupted the flow of a traditional reading by starting…Continue Reading “Junot Diaz at VCU”
I am God’s grand bravado, temporal. Whose hairline recedes like trees forested on a fleeting ball of dirt, and water. Several teeth decayed have been extracted. Soft breasts evolved of pectorals chiseled, and eyesight dims like the drear dusk of Spring. I see things less clearly. And more clearly. I am God’s grand bravado, temporal. Who acquires heartburn after pizza, and piss-drizzles in pants after peeing. Writing is limited. Desire, too. Joints are stiffer than the chub erection. Fading body weeps….Continue Reading “God’s Grand Bravado by Kenny Burchett”
We are calling for submissions for our spring publication. Send your writing and art to firstname.lastname@example.org by March 15th!
image source words by Sylvia Jones i am i be –De La Soul Letters to My Daughter pulsing; a phantom limb borrowed equipped me to love my mother. You personified debonair You fashioned me a skeptic so I was prepared for shortcomings and backfires, anticipating what looks like progress; a moonwalk, an illusion of forward. Lorde, Hooks, Dove, Giovanni, Raab, Boyle can be blamed too. But without you Maya, I am disarranged. Come back and teach us how to listen better. After they krooned your death…Continue Reading “Angelou Street”