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By Jessica Jacobs
Arkansas is aspic with last-gasp summer, making running
like tunneling: the trail’s air a gelatin
of trapped trajectories.
By Matt Daly
Everywhere I go, people are shouting
at one another, people are shaking
their fists at one another. Everywhere
I go, I see someone knapping
an edge to a stone.
By Yona Harvey
There was a river turned to Goddess. Was kin to river turned to Flame.
As a child I dreamt that river. None could keep me from that vision.
They lowered me in the Mighty Waters. Lowered me in the Creek of Shame.
By Kay Ulanday Barrett
In summertime, the women
in my family spin sagoo
like planets, make
even saturn blush.
By Julian Randall
Cue the Anthony Hamilton/and name me a mansion/tell everyone there is space here/if you
believe in the reincarnated/I am already somewhere/that somebody has gone/
By Amir Rabiyah
As the sun sets—we set our plan into motion.
Our sole purpose to overthrow
any assumptions, to change
the course of ordinary thinking.
By Tara Hardy
They call it dissociation.
I call it THE NINE (children)
who live inside me.
Each of them encased
in amber, frozen in a mosquito-pose
By Monica Rico
Past the breath that only stars have, I find myself
an open hand of night with pupils that eclipse the moon.
The blackness underneath my feet, not above where the sky is filled with sea.
My eyelash covers the arm of the galaxy with one word that means, here.
By M. F. Simone Roberts
Begin with da Vinci’s hybrid
of spring and top, of wood and iron,
and completely non-aerodynamic,
then crystallize the blue of the lagoon
By Paul Tran
Desert born. Wild
As corn. Dry
Bitch. Itchy clit.