Category - Literature

Literature Moni Brar Poetry

Gather

I look no further than the edge of my body my map to gather you oh brother my brother my brown skinned brethren my kin and distant loves my turbaned uncles my unclejis crowned like kings backs alder straight I gather you from the bastion of a ship a ship that sat ashore my uncles whose feet did not...

Literature Matthew Stepanic Poetry

Boyfriend won’t say the word

I don’t mind you’ve put on a little       actually I’m attracted to         boys      do we deserve a snack tonight?        what you eat really isn’t that healthy                          we should exercise more            I can police your food if you’d like      you shouldn’t wear a shirt that...

Fiction Jordan Johnston Literature

The Disappearing Game

I would like to make it known that I never languished around like some sort of woe-begotten damsel, desperately waiting for Ben to show up. In all the time we’d known each other, my life had been full. Too damn full, even. And while there’s no shame in having a quiet Saturday evening at home, even...

Literature Maryam Gowralli Poetry

Dusk on the Hati Marege

Mother, then setting off— I see the world in which you inhabited sand breaching between land and seafoam you left clues, spinning sagas in my all too Canadian body of a place so delicious in warmth, the providence of natural resources prone to warships and the occasional genocide. Mother, on the...

Jamie Kitts Literature Poetry

This is not a poem, it’s a meme

after “Dick from a Girl with Autism” I love autistic gay trans queens Us sensual sensory gals Euphoric smut and top-shelf memes From squishy a-spec pals High-stim, low-stim Not him, zmm zmm Tattoos, role play Bound by the High Fae Head pats for days and no more shame I hear you call my name I wanna...

Ezra Pilar Rodriguez Fiction Literature

Daughter of Corn

When she was eleven, Alex spent about a week out in the Missouri cornfields, crawling along the bottom of the stalks until she found a natural divot in the ground that was big enough for her lanky frame. There she burrowed down, surrounded by dirt and worms, and covered the top of the hole with the...

Breanna Ho Literature Poetry

My Shore

My father told me he came from an island. A boat in the middle of the night took him and his brothers to the city. They would grow into men, become part of another land to tell stories from, be named in— no longer speaking ways of the water. When my father became a settler on the prairies, I came...

Lisa Richter Literature Poetry

New Year’s Lament

I am writing you this letter from the bottom of the ocean where my eyelids are bottle caps and my stomach turns burnished copper. Maybe it is time for a new oral tradition. All day I flicker and sometimes I go out and leave in my wake the faintest trace of sweat and hibiscus. Maybe I am an embryo...

Fiction Literature Robert Labelle

Coal

By the early 1950s, the town where I grew up was turning into a modern suburb of Montreal, just across the river. New streets were being carved into the surrounding farm fields of the St. Lawrence valley, but the house my parents had put a down payment on, not long before my older brother was born...

Katherine Alexandra Harvey Literature Poetry

The Wake

I removed my belly button and paid attention to the healing process. No one believed I could feel the hole closing over, that it reminded me of being born. My mother was laid out on the kitchen table for a week. Formaldehyde high, you never noticed when my skin blackened. I felt undesirable. You...

Literature Poetry Shannan Mann

The Lie

Her body was part-whale, part-mouse—behold the lie! It lives in your belly. Like an unborn baby you mould the lie. Slice my ears with the jagged stars. What did you ever do with the gift of music? I buried the violin and told the lie. This lamp in the ocean. A wolf with feathers for fangs. The...

Fiction Literature Monica Wang

Electric Circus

The ringmaster thinks about the words work and pride and feels nothing. Glowing tubes writhe and pulse through colours as they pass over the audience, who scream or laugh or noiselessly gape up into their futures. One tube pauses above the ringmaster, changing to match the black and purple of his...

Conyer Clayton Literature Poetry

Low Maintenance

I don’t really have a preference. Which name you use. The coffee beans. Fonts or flowers or flavors. Except when it comes to bubbles. Keep my water flat, I don’t need it to be interesting. I’d prefer not to say—that’s a preference. I’d prefer to stay—that’s a...

David Ly Literature Poetry

Dragon Hunting

The Hunter’s Moon reaches bloody illumination tonight obliviously obscuring what would be my first glimpse of the Draconids. I’ve yet to witness a meteor shower which is to say my blood still burns from when I saw a star fall by chance years ago and didn’t make a wish— how dare the moon rise...

Fiction Literature Margo LaPierre

The Silk Pyjamas

Naegleria Fowleri infects people when water containing the amoeba enters the body through the nose. This typically happens when people go swimming, diving, or when they put their heads under fresh water, like in lakes and rivers. The amoeba then travels up the nose to the brain, where it destroys...

Eli Mushumanski Literature Poetry

the creation of adam

    i think of myself in images: oranges split down the middle, pavement damp with rain. spring fields     are the same as being under water and fill the hollow in my gut where a rib used to be. sometimes, i am a row of naked bodies on different planes, reaching out to touch fingertips     that...

Literature Misha Solomon Poetry

Shopping

We buy a speckled ceramic vase for his mother and then we buy a new vase for ourselves. The vase we buy ourselves is glass, hand-blown, twisted and prismatic. There’s an Italian word for it, surely. Before this glass vase we had a ceramic vase: floral and millennial pink, yet vaguely 70s. We grew...

Fiction Kate Cayley Literature

Finn

Finn (not her name) described herself as a grief artist as though this were a familiar term, wanting to see how the person she was talking to asked for an explanation (chastened, as if they ought to have known already, in quotations, to make her feel foolish so they didn’t, not at all). To her, it...

Amanda Merpaw Literature Poetry

Essay on Closure

I try to end it the night we lunge lung first into the north country, the unappeasable shores of Lake Superior and me too unappeasable, restless and reckless, tensing the edges of the waves. We can’t tell if they’re advancing or receding. Gravity forgets us our measures of depth, the possibilities...

Creative Non-fiction Literature Nofel

Bodies of Poetry

“Now that we’ve been seeing each other for three weeks, should we be exclusive?” « Oui, parce que je vais pas rester avec toi si tu veux voir un autre homme. » “Sounds good.” Henrique and I spoke best in the absence of a common language. I was able to understand French but spoke it poorly, and he...

Katrina Lemaire Literature Poetry

Homegrown Prairie Love

a speckled bloat of metal-ridged rooftops come to life from deep under the roots of blue grama grass stuck over a cast of wither-dry sun beams boredom is rampant plastered in checkered flannel top countertop stale coffee over a pot she is homegrown straight from chernozemic soil Moose Jaw is an...

Jade Wallace Literature Poetry

A Ladder Set upon the Earth

d i m e n s i o n s w e c a n s c a r c e l y r e c o g n i z e. ever been. The balance of our faces will be alien— nostrils, our eyes round as planets, wide as they have ourselves going grey, left with only the twin slits of our move more swiftly toward our demise. Soon, we find human cells...

Fiction Kaye Miller Literature

Grafting Techniques

The first time Lenny does her wash at your house, she comes with a bottle of gin in her laundry basket, folded into a cardigan. You’re standing out back watering the lettuces when she calls your name over the fence. “Ginger?” She holds up her laundry basket. “This a good time?” “Of course!” You let...

Literature Poetry Tannaz Taghizadeh

Unedited me

Not a pretty structure No beautiful content Ruthless Lots of typos Lots of mean adverbs Repetitive form Contrasting voices Yelling in Farsi Shouting in English Not pragmatic Just dark Stuffy, complex not like-me words Redundant Maddening Screaming in capitals Calling people that not who No clarity...

Dominik Parisien Literature Poetry

bilingual insomniac at the witching hour

the world sleeps while i listen. the faucet sings frère jacques frère jacques dormez-vous dormez-vous. what language would i be dreaming if i were. i ask the pillow to consider how in its breaking legacy leads to sitting. leg assis. assis one of many words rooted in my tongue. the pillow says it...

Lisa Comeau Literature Poetry

Cheers

Dogwood blossoms return men materialize down by the tracks one slumped over a shopping cart says he will make some graffiti drink some beer holds up a Bud can—cheers a guy in the alders with a flip phone gingerly raises his hand says hi hi hi by the flattened Coors cases Absolut bottles soot from...

Literature Nathan Mader Poetry

To The Mirror

I was as an orchid wearing nothing but the light. You hammered an I into me like a nail, taught me the language of glass as you forged my eyes from the surfaces of sight. You’ve seen it all: the feral child putting on his Halloween werewolf suit, the teenaged boy kissing his breath-fogged...

Creative Non-fiction John RC Potter Literature

Period

My sister Barb and I were sitting in the kitchen at the big oval wooden table, staring at the television perched in the recessed shelf of the wall opposite. It was the late 1960s and we were still watching a black-and-white portable television; I was 9 years old, and Barb was 5. The world consisted...

Amber Dawn Literature Poetry

Unnamed Service Road

It’s 2:56 and you are awake. The pulse under your jaw throbs. Carotid arteries throng your brain. The senses reside here, below your jawline, so does speech. You say “service” aloud like a wish. Go to the road, again. Go. It’s 3:12 and you are awake. You paddle your feet under the covers. Your...

Cale Plett Literature Poetry

Curtain

Begin by noting that there’s no path to      the other side of rain.The only way is perpetually through.      A bicycle on two wheels forthe first time. At the viewing, only the mourners       keep the emptiness at bay. Before and after,            a room of objects. If youreached across, it would...

Fiction Literature Ryan Thomas Riddle

Wild Hearts Run Outta Time

You ever listened to Roy Orbison? That voice. That fucking voice. Cuts deep into you, slicing you bit by bit. Until you’re just chunks of meaty, exposed flesh on the ground. All that remains is the pain you had before you started listening to one of his songs. Been listening to him a lot lately...

Lee Thomas Literature Poetry

[nectar names] / [white stripe]

seafoam sours beneath my tongue spills over in the speaking of a name a tide in my throat, a surge of syllables the gravity of the words i swallow turns my body inside out tears my teeth from my mouth. secrets dissolve in my mouth drops of nectar spear my tongue to my jaw, i speak without saying...

Literature Maureen Hynes Poetry

The Juggler

After the painting, The Juggler, by Spanish surrealist, Remedios Varo (1908-1963) Yesterday a great many pellets of graupel shot out of the low grey sky— bouncing ice-balls! Spring’s thunderous shout muffled by its cloudy facemask. We have been too knotted into death counts & pollen counts...

Creative Non-fiction Literature Mahta Riazi

Centerpoint Mall Doesn’t Know

Centerpoint Mall doesn’t know the fate that awaits her. The dust that will soon rise from her roof, the way her shadow will shrink from the parking lot. She thinks what we all think about our bodies. Imperishable. Centerpoint is an immigrant mall full of immigrant things. Baadeh. Cameo...

Ashley Van Elswyk Literature Poetry

Garden Party

Pear trees line the grove, netting the sun, sheltering the predators encroached behind the thick green leaves and bodies fat and round. You pass me a knife and ask if I would carve a feast for you, a garden under golden skies and pear skin peels as cries of insects pitch the air. Fireweed...

Creative Non-fiction Joseph Jay Literature

Popeye & Sweet Pea

At many stages throughout my life, I often wondered: If I were the same age as my dad, would we have been friends? I knew my dad loved me, but did he like me? Whenever I cleared my mom and sister out of the living room by letting a particularly loud one rip, Dad would grin and say “Like father...

Literature Poetry Shanai Tanwar

Tulips

“The one you would choose: Were you led then by him?” “What longing, O Yaar, is controlled in real time?” —Agha Shahid Ali (Ghazal) i dreamt of tulips today they opened their mouths in a yawn the kind that engulfs the sun in its vacuous mouth like a little hurricane; the sort of yawn that could...