Issue E4

August Twenty-Twenty This has been the longest not-August,the unwieldy-est still-March, my windows fogged with tomorrow’s…

touchscream diwali outside, & names smoke on my tonguewith the taste of burning diyas /…

* We wonder what the moth wonderswhen she flutters to the lone,warm bulb that stuttersin…

The Shape of the Known Universe (To preserve the format of the poem, we have…