New Year Poem
︎︎︎ Jacob Seferian
︎ Apr 16, 2024
IN BED WITH AN UGLY
MOTHERFUCKER AGAIN SO I CLOSE MY EYES PRACTICE FOR WHEN I WILL FLINCH IN THE
MORNING CLEARLY I HAVE TROUBLE RESPECTING MEN GOTTA BE TRICKED INTO IT. I SAW A
TIKTOK WHERE A NATIVE AMERICAN ELDER SAID “TOO MANY PEOPLE BECOME THEIR SICKNESS”
WHICH INSPIRED ME TO BUY A PLANE TICKET TO THE GRAND CANYON. I TOOK THE TIME
OFF FROM WORK AND EVERYTHING BUT COULDN’T AFFORD IT SO I SETTLE FOR BIG EROSION
IN TOWN TAKING LONG MOODY WALKS FAT JAMES DEAN STYLE AND THINK OF THE WAY MY
LIFE HAS DEVOLVED FROM INDIRECT TO ACTUALLY AIMLESS AND THIS UPSETS ME. IT’S
JUST THAT I NEED TO GET LAID MORE I TELL MY FRIEND AT SOME BAR. WHISKEY LEADS TO KETAMINE LEADS TO COCAINE
LEADS TO HANGOVER ACHING TEMPLE FULL OF THESE FEELINGS BUT ENOUGH SELF PITY. I
WILL GO TO A GROCERY STORE AND BUY SOMETHING HEALTHY LIKE CHICKPEAS. THIS YEAR
I’M TURNING IT AROUND. I PROMISE. YOU KNOW ADRIENE THAT YOUTUBE YOGI MAYBE I’LL
DO SOME OF HER VIDEOS. I SAW A TRAIN THAT WAS CARRYING ONLY TRASH BAGS. LIKE A
METAPHOR. I DON’T WANT TO CHASE DEATH ANYMORE. A STRETCH OF SCAFFOLDING WITH NO
POSTERS… DOES THAT MEAN ANYTHING? BOY DOES JANUARY SUCK. TALKING TOO MUCH BLAH
BLAH BLAH TALKING TOO MUCH. I COULD STAND TO ROMANTICIZE MY LIFE A LITTLE MORE
THE WAY PEOPLE POST PICTURES OF THEIR OUTFIT TEXTURES OR A PRINT WITH NO FRAME
ON THEIR WALL WITH THE LIGHT HITTING JUST SO AND BECAUSE IT LOOKS BEAUTIFUL IT
MUST MEAN SOMETHING. RIGHT? RIGHT. AT THE RESTAURANT I WORK AT THEY MADE US
MEMORIZE WHAT WAS IN SAUCE AMÉRICAINE
BUT I STILL DON’T KNOW I STILL DON’T.
Jacob Seferian is a writer whose work has appeared in several magazines. He lives in New York City.
CHARACTER
︎︎︎ P.G. McNabb
︎ Apr 13, 2024
I could not even make my Self.
I have been
Distracted by another enigma,
Who fills in all
The detail. It’s not that I am
Too abstract, rather, someone else
Abstracted me, and I am
All they ever think of.
P.G. McNabb lives and writes in Minnesota. You can also read him in No More Prostitutes.
modern plight
︎︎︎ Owen Avery
︎ Apr 11, 2024
and I feel so sad for them.
Owen Avery is a student currently walking in Connecticut. He enjoys words and images.
Also by Owen: Redeem
Know before as children
︎︎︎ Sam Robinson
︎ Apr 9, 2024
“As the mind of ape is to human
so we are to the gods, building
sandcastles” I could cry salt
for an ocean to wash it all
away— the ruins come down to
us as stories or signals picked
up by those rare life-forms
possessing receptive antennae
groping forward hungry for future
I could cry— the innocent
laughter is a blessing playing
under the sun by an ancient ocean
Sam Robinson is a writer from Massachusetts whose poetry has appeared in Blue Arrangements, No More Prostitutes, SWAMP, and Reap Thrill. He is the author of a chapbook, New Age Self Help (Bottlecap Press, 2024), and is the singer and lyricist of the band Be Released.
Also by Sam: Rewilding, Breaking Fast with Grapefruit
The Adoration
︎︎︎ Cole Henry Forster
︎ Apr 7, 2024
this Wednesday kid, knees boning
my hardwood, each plank bent
from the distress of a blowjob
half-believed in, a quarter turn of the screw.
Will she stop when she’s gotten what she
wants? Will we have to go to the sink?
What’s the point of washing gifts?
You are making the mushrooms soggy,
I fear they will be soggy. Just brush away the
dirt and imagine—as you are overcome with
calm—how foolish it would be to hail the
Magi, at the manger, and
rush off to rinse their Frankincense
under the tap.
Cole Henry Forster is a poet living in Ottawa. His most recent chapbook, Western Love Songs, was released this year by Cactus Press in Montreal.
Also by Cole: RE-UPLOAD