For those Sunday afternoons caught between doing nothing and everything,
for the insomnia-driven, for the wanderers and wonderers,
for the unwritten stories of a blank page: please—tell us your story.
“ if butterflies were / climatologists, we would have solved global warming by now. if we too sensed everything in the / air around us, if we let the earth move our bodies instead of changing the ground beneath our / feet, we would be a planet of beautiful things”
By Maia Joy
“He runs his hands down braille arms, rests his fingers inside hand-painted indents stretching taut against my hips.
You’re so beautiful, he says, why haven’t we done this before?”
By Magi Sumpter
“My mothers side of the closet empty, the shoulders swallow sympathy for the living. I hate / talking... the palm tree watches me as it suffocates with smoke. Does the rain know it / evaporates? I hope they don’t let me die at my funeral.”
By Tanya Castro
We group all our writing by the month in which they were published;
to view work from previous months, check out our archives page.
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