If you could decipher what can I get for you? as I want to hear your voice as I drift asleep. Then I would’ve told you that your hair...

little half-winged   fledgling   thing stumbling    past the dance    floor hands clasped     eyes on the ground trying not      to make...

A circle, a jump, and a dot. I guess that’s the most appropriate response To a betrayal: oh. I whisper through slightly parted lips, When...

Katherine Zhao is a 16-year-old writer and artist from New York. Her work has been recognized by various national and international...

maybe I’ll be in a museum one day. They’ll put me up for display, tell people all about who I was. What the size of my collarbone...

You have nothing left to lose, So pull yourself from the hungry mouth of your desolation And come inside. It’s warm, and the wifi’s free,...

do you remember me, sycamore? i was with you just three springs ago. i miss drifting through this world in blind ecstasy. since then i’ve...

my mother’s soft hands braiding stories into my hair i drink the rain in fear of tasting it bitter. (my limbs grow longer, tangled in old...

how much longer must i scrub to wash these feelings away– dandelions are spreading through my body, my skin is a wasteland of soil where...

Now I’m stuck searching for God on the bus home, The sun, thick on the windows, soaks through the seats like canola oil. The man across...

I imagine thick velvet curtains ensconced in the veins of my eyelids when I lay curdled like a fetus under covers heavy to hide myself...

make no mistake & bury my half devoured body under the tree we picked to murder next to interstate 71 i take to board airbus 320 to visit...

“. . . the suicide rate among Korean descendants in Japan. . . has consistently been higher than that for the overall rate and the rate...

My heart is a door. After work, when I come to my house, The door is locked. The brain says, help. The brain says, stuck, stuck. I fumble...

True loneliness like falling asleep at the sleepover before everyone else. You’re in orange pajamas with hardwood cold seeping into the...

When I imagine my Church, the old one, the one I would sneak off to at odd hours of the night and pray to anything, the one I left...

I never showed you our dance last night,  you told me twenty minutes only  but I waited for an hour, or maybe two,  or maybe another...

The war I wage is sweet and red. Warriors appear in fruit baskets, on counters, In paper totes, ripe. I wield a knife, A cutting board...

he floats in pools of champagne and watches his daughter from outside her window as she sleeps. her priced eyes were sold for a new...

i miss you. even though you’ve given me so little to miss. i’m just a person you know a friend you talk to… sometimes. i imagine us...