One-Way, Through the Fire

By Lin Darrow in Issue Seven, November 2022

It’s the first thing they tell you in Temporal Navigation 101:

Time is water,
But it knows no gentle ebb,
Only the rage and riot of rapids.
You can’t go back, the Temporists say;
The currents are too strong.

My FEMA trailer

By Gary Bloom in Issue Seven, November 2022

Early in the morning
I can hear my neighbor’s TV
Reverberating through the tin foil
Walls of her FEMA trailer

Paradiso: A Found Cyborg Poem

By Tiffany Morris in Issue Seven, November 2022

(taken from 2020s advertisements)

it’s written in the stars:
the ingeniously simple
magnetic mechanism
of the making process —

Let the Water in

By Vanessa Jae in Issue Six, September 2022

The earth tears at her concrete visage
until she can breathe through the cracks.

Listen to the viscous vows of retaliation
she presses through her stuffed throats:

send down the rain is no song when the belly goes to war

By the_people in Issue Six, September 2022

zephyr sings a lullaby into my body
that she may light my eyes and dulcify my tongue

don't listen to her—
⁠the aphorism of my stomach roared in hurt
and reluctantly, i was submerged in its words:

Factory Reset

By RC deWinter in Issue Six, September 2022

Those who know tell us it will rain for days
as the west burns in the unrelieved heat of the sun –
all of this beyond our control thanks to the willingness
of a handful to profit by whatever means possible.

Two Beaches

By Devin Miller in Issue Six, September 2022

I want to show you the beach
that has been with me since I was in utero.
Now I carry it inside me in my turn:
the rocks, the barnacles with their
fronds and sharp edges,


By Annika Barranti Klein in Issue Six, September 2022

I was thinking today of a
world without traffic lights
where pushing the button
on the dashboard for recirculated air

Blood, Roses, Song

By Vanessa Fogg in Issue Five, July 2022

Roses without thorns, blooming and wet with dew.
A garden of sweetness
A song without bitterness
A bird pouring out its heart at dawn
Song pure and weightless in the trembling air.

We Greet the Solstice

By Avra Margariti in Issue Five, July 2022

Inside extant skulls of extinct giants
We’ve made our homes for many a summer
Solstice. Wildflower wreaths, crowns, garlands
Ornament the colorlessness of bone,
Our way of giving thanks to the earth
For not having annihilated our kind just yet.