I’m not interested in likability with characters. I am drawn to characters who are complex, contradictory, and very particular in the ways that they might exist in the world, and that they are capable of holding contradictory views. That is how I see people.
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MISCELLANEOUS GRIEVANCES by Ji Hyun Joo
My doppelgänger smells like wet fur and Old Spice. Even when we’re sitting in the dry air conditioning of my Jeep Cherokee, the scent — heavy with notes of yeast and nutmeg — is overpowering.
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HOW WAS SALLY ON THE NIGHT OF THE BREAKING? by Abigail Chang
Sally’s dresses were too big, they swallowed us, gobbled us up, we tied the cords too tight and they left these great, swooping Xs across our bodies. The day was drawn, frigid, there were goosebumps running across our arms. But Sally wasn’t there and couldn’t say anything. Sally was dead.
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This is a Parable by Isabel Quintero
“Your mother is afraid of lizards. This is a constant. In the present or the past, she is always afraid of lizards. When you were a child, one crept in the house when your father was out, probably getting high––though you cannot blame everything on addiction. He might have been working.”
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Two Poems by Ángel García
A man sings for pesos,/on the corner, his hand/ swarmed by a song of bees
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Three Poems by Felicia Zamora
A slow/ soiling exponentially catches fire. Myth as warning. A myth stays with us, despite our/ forgetting.
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A Normal Interview with MariNaomi by Lee Lee
My first pieces were our letters and notes to each other, our photographs, and the boxes full of journals I read through, one by one. Once I put it all together, it felt significant. As I collected them, it felt like a scavenger hunt.
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The Madrid Conversations by Normando Hernàndez Gonzalez with Adam Braver and Molly Gessford, Translated By Cynthia Guardado
The simple act of having your rights to liberty and expression, I would say. The simple act of not being scared to say what you are thinking.
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Seasons by DW McKinney
She drinks to forget and drinks to feel different in her skin. She drinks to be someone else and drinks because she feels things she isn’t supposed to feel – because she is Black and Christian and because her parents raised her better.
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Southside Buddhist by Ira Sukrungruang
The Southside me is like the Southside neighborhoods with the cracked and weedy sidewalks, the eroding brown-brick buildings, the abandoned factories. The Southside resists any type of change, unless it’s for the worse.
There is Always More by Ahsan Butt
As the credits rolled, Dad was leaned forward on his crossed leg, rubbing where his forehead touches the mat in prayer—that’s what it is: man becomes animal when death comes.
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A Guide for Boys (Ages 6+) by Samuel Rafael Barber
It’s perfectly normal to imagine becoming a Football Star. Your imaginations need so much practice for where we will be taking you. “The Possible” is as important to imagine as “The Real” you think you see.
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Two Poems by Chloe Martinez
You were looking for water, as you // (or some other five hundred ants) / always do in the heat, in September.
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A Murder of Crows: The Kanye West Conversion
Anyhow, Maura chooses ballet for her son because she’s never seen a coon pirouette a la seconde, never seen an Uncle Tom execute consecutive tour jetes. Ballet is safe (thugs don’t twirl), albeit a little effeminate and her husband Marvin would have a fit if he knew.
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Perennials by Shelley Wong
Still, I lose: I cannot even recall/our common silences. The years have transposed/into any year
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Ghost Child by Danusha Laméris
Only he is not my son. / He’s the one I was expecting that season / my belly grew taut as a honeydew.
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Reclaiming a Name by Negesti Kaudo
For years, I’d pronounced my own name wrong because it was easier, it fit into other people’s mouths better. My mom wants me to embody my name. 'I gave you a strong name,' she says.
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