this poem began in the belly of a fish in the south china sea, which was then caught, fried, and served
as a seven-dollar meal, rice included, at barrio fiesta in lucky plaza. this poem began on a yellowing page
in an unchecked library book about jose rizal’s noli me tangere.
He grew up in a place that never seemed to change. A languid landscape of wood fences, stop signs and abandoned street-hockey sticks. Milton, Ontario has been steadily expanding for years, chewing into the forests and farmland that surround it …
The commodification of hip-hop thereupon leads to a watering down of its content. As corporations try to capture as much of the market as possible, they ‘tone down’ hip-hop’s radical aspects to make it as palatable for consumers as possible …
and so: what is this
to you, this
breaking
of lines, why do i write
and why do you read it?
This digital art series examines my personal chronological issues with my identity …
Illustration inspired by the short story The Pond, written by Zoe Jane Patterson for Issue 05.
Thou shalt not tolerate the bullshit of man
Thou shalt bare nipples in response to shame
Thou shalt release the clitoris from captivity
The pink flower mantis always remembers
his freckled purple orchid and her petals
which held raindrop
crystal balls
full with dewy fortunes
for his praying hands.
butter sizzles in the bottom of a nondescript black pan
I watch it scorch and send strings of smoke to heaven,
perhaps this is what happens when those of good faith die.
what is new in the world is not
bombs in yemen or
the plateauing of tragedy inside
a single body
At the age of seven, Hala lost her best friend. “We’re soulmates,” Reem
said. “Because God tied our spirits together before we were born.” Reem
was confident that they shared the angel that had breathed into their
mothers…
Walking on beige lake-wall
focused on each pattern, each grain
of each rock at Belmont Harbor. My body
wanted to scream
out of its skin how deeply
I fell in love with their lives
I hate those
backwards snapback
hockey jersey toting
wide grin
“what’s up, fag?”
boys.
“Would you believe it if someone told you I was the daughter of Mark Ruffalo?” “Why?” Because there’s a little girl in me that died too fast. She burned to ashes and rose into an adult, a guardian for her brother and the family dog. For so long, “dad” was synonymous with “damned.” Everyone asks […]
The boy clings tightly onto his father like
a newborn ape: legs around waist, limbs
girding neck, body cradled on the side.
I grew up to the soundtrack of my parents – arguing, my mother screaming intermittently, my father cursing followed by the disgusting noises of making out and whatever else. I’d turn up the speakers…
This will be the first Christmas I celebrate as a 30-something married person. My partner and I both come from families that have a plethora of traditions and celebrations that shaped our holiday seasons as children. We still participate in many of these, but we have also created ones that involve just the two of us.,,
