Issue E4

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

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

touchscream   diwali outside, & names smoke on my tongue with the taste of burning…

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