I used to go dancing at the Painted Lady I used to go dancing in the afternoon lazily drinking youth and afraid of nothing but afraid of nothing except missing cheap oysters When the beer I tasted really mattered and how I tasted the beer I tasted really mattered When it mattered that the appetizer...
Why we continued to celebrate the new year every 365 days when it took this planet almost double that to revolve around the sun, I never understood. I’d have preferred the planet’s natural rhythms, forcing us to mark time in a slower way. Maybe then I wouldn’t find myself at the end of each...
Orientation desk music have YOU read Proust? God. the invisible sex of it. Claire. the eagle-eyed spectator. My substance: Honey. tea tea then nothing. London roads narrow my sense of dying. you love this shit. Joe, like wheat. a shared renaissance! Fall. Née autumn. words. soft. pedal. on dental...
Reviewed by Namitha Rathinappillai Tawahum Bige, Stages of Tanning Words and Remembering Spells: Part 1: Scraping Lungs Like Hides (Nightwood Editions, 2025), 96 pp., $19,95. jaye simpson, a body more tolerable (Arsenal Pulp Press, 2025), 88 pp., $19.95. In two recently published collections, Two...
I tug you taut slide you slick you squeak up and down between my incisors and their neighbours tight fit forever loosened by pre-Invisalign shaving-down you choke my fingers your small green plastic case is too tiny for AirPods I swing your lid open unfurl you unwind you unspool you and at arm’s...
The day was appropriately gloomy for a funeral. Raven perched on her ladder and sheared dead ivy from her windowsill, occasionally glancing at the procession of mourners mirrored in the glass. It wasn’t an unusual sight for a cemetery, of course, but she liked to watch over these things. There was...
The basement suite is leaking in my brain, connectors wet, though advertised brain-tight. My mentor, ice in her cup a rattling rain, from cancer-dark names me formidably brainy. I rustle into the paper bag of childhood, and touch the slick sweet jelly of sour brains. You take my photo on the...
Mackenzie Wiebe is a writer interested in texture, sensation, and ornament. They have an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Guelph and currently organize the Emerging Writers Reading Series. They have a chapbook with Armistice Press called Wandering Teeth.
Reviewed by Jasmine Ruff Sarah Leavitt, Something, Not Nothing: A Story of Grief and Love (Arsenal Pulp Press, 2024), 152 pp., $27.95. Sarah Leavitt’s Something, Not Nothing is a poignant and raw exploration of grief, art, and joy in the aftermath of tremendous loss. In this collection of short...
