The Opera House power vault / blows and knocks out the local grid / on our first day of work together.

I’m writing this much later than I should be, in part, because I’ve just had another birthday, and as I age, I become more reluctant to do more than one job.

The court had decided I was the most logical choice for the bull’s care. I was sufficiently neutral as a production assistant, and I’d already been tasked with managing him at the studio.

We don't know. / Despite thousands of years spent / conceptualizing moralities of power, / theorizing hierarchies / or their abolition…

Can everyone hear and see me okay? No? Oh, I was on mute, let me just … There we go.

"Why is it that the more transsexual I get, the more employable I feel?"

At the height of the pandemic, I became a new kind of laborer: a student-teacher, a strange, two-faced role.

Teri Vela’s “Superstition Sonnet” invites readers to dispense with everything they think they know about the sonnet. It is not the rules of a form, but the warp and weft of intergenerational violence and prevailing softness that tethers these intricate lines together into a powerful reverse origin story.

In her dazzling suite of text poems, image poems, and art, Tina Lentz-McMillan designates the negative space in every page as an intimate collaborator in her story. Her speaker is an un-silenced witness: of obsession, desire, and the ache of longing—and of what (and who) lives on even in the liminal territory of erasure.

Noelle’s imaginative, multi-layered piece grapples with inherited technologies, nonlinear logic, and finding intergenerational healing through the collective.

Savannah Bowen’s La-Pa-La tells the story of two young siblings living in Haiti—one of whom must grapple with the mysterious disappearance of the other. As the surreal begins to eclipse the real, a beautiful unraveling takes hold, leaving readers to wonder whether love may be the only certainty in this or any universe.

Michelle’s poetry and collage act as a bridge between beloved, departed souls, ancestors lost to undocumented histories, and unborn future lineages.

In a world where writers operate within the confines of page and word limits, Sionnain Buckley is a visionary without regard for parameters. In her poem, “The Time-Space Synesthete Draws You a Picture of What You Can’t See” Buckley renders a world where time has a shape, where every word has weight, and where the experience of glimpsing through the speaker's vast, synesthetic scope will leave an indelible impression in your worldview.

Haruka’s poetic double-sided accordion visual narrative honors the intertwined destinies of two queer souls, inviting us to share in the relief of healing wounds together across timelines and past lives.

Everywhere in Natasha Loewy’s art, the ordinary and discarded are transmogrified into affective (re)creations that toe the line between tension and fragility, levity and weight, and joy and grief. Despite a wide range of materials used, Loewy’s larger body of work boldly rejects the notion that “good” art will stand the test of time; on the contrary, many of her creations are designed not to resist, but to relent to the passage of time, as all natural things do.