Pilg
︎︎︎ Philip Traylen
︎ Oct 4, 2025
A lake at night, let’s say. I could name
worse things. I could name your body
after a long walk, a pilgrimage almost, how
you skipped stones into the mouth of
God. Personally, I don’t think
there was anything there,
so I just watched. What’s
a man to do? In my case: wash your feet
in my intense curiosity about them, or
in the eye-green water at the foot
of a cliff, thinking carefully
about what might happen next.
worse things. I could name your body
after a long walk, a pilgrimage almost, how
you skipped stones into the mouth of
God. Personally, I don’t think
there was anything there,
so I just watched. What’s
a man to do? In my case: wash your feet
in my intense curiosity about them, or
in the eye-green water at the foot
of a cliff, thinking carefully
about what might happen next.
Death to my tulpa
︎︎︎ Sam Cooke
︎ Oct 2, 2025
My pilgrim has a pretty knife
She counts the days with ash
She made me in the lab
of her adolescence
War colors for no reason
War songs make her smile
Cathedral addiction
makes her hate God
makes her build churches
united against tyranny
of her former guardian
Finally she knows
I am the reason her alter
is always shattered
Late summer flora fecundity
She can almost taste a future
without ice in her veins
I don’t know how to be myself
so she lets me linger
She laughs because
I am cured of insanity
She counts the days with ash
She made me in the lab
of her adolescence
War colors for no reason
War songs make her smile
Cathedral addiction
makes her hate God
makes her build churches
united against tyranny
of her former guardian
Finally she knows
I am the reason her alter
is always shattered
Late summer flora fecundity
She can almost taste a future
without ice in her veins
I don’t know how to be myself
so she lets me linger
She laughs because
I am cured of insanity
Indiana I Love You
︎︎︎ George Dibble
︎ Oct 1, 2025
Mother’s daughter standing beside wet highway. Cattle
shadow-flocking toward the fence; brown; muscle-burdened,
watchkeeping modernity. She turns her head. The light.
shadow-flocking toward the fence; brown; muscle-burdened,
watchkeeping modernity. She turns her head. The light.
Breastfeeding
︎︎︎ Cletus Crow
︎ Sept 29, 2025
I work outside most of the morning. I pull a tick off my nipple. It's the closest I've felt to being a mother as a man. Hopefully, I don't have Lyme disease. If I do, though, my mother will make soup because she loves me. I am full of her blood.
Sugar
︎︎︎ Conor Hultman
︎ Sept 27, 2025
Sugar is made.
Sugar makes things.
Sugar makes things happen.
Sugar makes things.
Sugar makes things happen.