All posts by

Lonely Pantoum

When I see an animal alone in the biggest field
I wonder if they are lonely or if I’m projecting.
Every night this winter a parade
of brake lights, the backstory.

Apricot Jam

by Erin Hyatt

Here, it is always 1985.
There is spoiled chicken
salad on the patio furniture;
there are apricots
rotting on the ground.
I sink my teeth into July,
and boil orange fruit to the bone
on a gasoline fire that stinks
like rust. Just down the road,
an old tractor hums back to life.

The Bible

by Abigail Gallen     Abigail Gallen is a 17-year-old rising senior at Lincoln Park Performing Arts Charter School. She is the founder and president of the Social Justice Club at North Allegheny High School, and […]

Dreamscape with Fists of Waves

by Tresa Murphy Green Did you know what it meant to the ocean when you ran from its tide? When fear exacerbated your motions & the salt waters were too vast to hide did you know […]

Heartbeat Line

by Kayla Sargeson White car/no “Lyft” sticker. He bops his head to his friend’s mixtape, some wannabe Lil Pump shit. Do you want a donut? he says. Hands me a yellow store bag, cold maple donuts […]

Transient Light

by Christina Springer A night manager accepts the moon’s detritus fills ‘n empties her. In battered women’s West Virginia, my shelter is deep down the hollow’s gaping crack. Past trailers like lice, crab grass, on blocks […]

Lost in Winter

by Gwendolyn A. Mitchell Every once in a while, I get lost in the winter evening just after dusk. I am Downtown waiting for the 82 Lincoln, standing across the street from what should be Gimbels […]