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February 18, 2021 | Nonfiction

ode to the state that raised me, or: when people ask where I’m from and I tell them Jersey and they say oh I’m sorry and think it’s funny, I want to punch them in the throat

Laura Winberry

As a pack, my Korean-Italian-American cousins and I were little foul-mouthed figurines made of compressed carbon and steam. On their own, they knew how to stand.

ode to the state that raised me, or: when people ask where I’m from and I tell them Jersey and they say oh I’m sorry and think it’s funny, I want to punch them in the throat photo
Soda Fountain photo

February 17, 2021 | Poetry

Soda Fountain

Janelle Cordero

On my first job I worked for a woman named Jeanie who owned a soda fountain, thrift store, and tavern. I worked at the soda fountain fixing milk shakes and simple sandwiches for the few customers that

Praiseworthy photo

February 16, 2021 | Nonfiction

Praiseworthy

Nicole McCarthy

An octopus can spend almost a year of her life hiding and hunting, turning shells into shields or floating through endless forests of kelp. They can dream, too.

Our relationship as embrace b/w Icarus & light photo

February 15, 2021 | Poetry

Our relationship as embrace b/w Icarus & light

Samantha Fain

the sun sees Icarus & tries to shift...