By Abu Bakr Sadiq
in the wakefulness of my hunger for luminescence
i rifle through cities for lighthouses
As I take a peek outside my home office window, there’s currently no snow in Montréal, but those of us who live in this part of the world know this will likely not be the case for much longer. It’s been a relatively mild autumn so far, but with winter on the horizon, I’m having a hard time figuring out how warmly to dress. It’s not quite fall anymore, but it’s also not yet officially winter. We’re existing in a strange in-between zone.
By Abu Bakr Sadiq
in the wakefulness of my hunger for luminescence
i rifle through cities for lighthouses
By Dax Carswell
Breathe in, / Breathe out. Catalyze the / Cries. Don’t wait too long to / Tear up—space them evenly,
Read MoreBy Domenica Martinello
I lock fingers with myself, preteen. I offer up the underwire. I bounce and supple, drag and drop the pretense, steal. My fanny pack is plum, I smell all pungent and powdery. I return to puppy shampoo, milk and strawberries.
Read MoreBy Laura Mota
the cows are benevolent and full of flies. / wilderness needs to make its case against nature romanticization. / I tell the cows that my partner’s kisses taste like quick disapprovals.
Read MoreBy Sneha Subramanian Kanta
The calculus of things: / petrichor lungs of forests / We walk till the last post office of a country / though we know
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