literary
-
By Savanna She lays on the table, a surgeon’s gaze Her own body, a canvas, in a sterile daze She makes the first incision, a careful cut Exposing the secrets, she’s long tried to shut Her heart, a muscle once full of life Now lies before her a withered, worn-out strife A maze of scar
-
By Ictalurus Antacids taste like a better ice cream cake, although they’re allegedly unflavored. Having nothing better to think, I wonder how the strange forces of existence reach me. What do I know about poetry, besides school acquaintances mocking an ode to love in ‘Nebraska, Nebraska, Nebraska’? What do I know about rhythm besides that
-
By Ictalurus Good artists steal but must add their own riff to have identity. I believe someone else is inside me, waiting for me to be alone when it won’t be strange to talk to myself. When I’m alone at last, they’ll come humming, blue light purring over me as I try to copy what
-
By Ictalurus Write your own questions! There are no rules!– the board says while I try to measure driving by proportioning city distances with my hands. I’m smiling my own expression, a held lower lip that never fails to make me look like ambient noise, though like that, it can never be captured in a
-
By Tatiyana Lucio Growing up in a small town, you get told a lot of stories over the years. Some about Bigfoot, the Loch Ness monster, ghosts, vampires, and witches. Out of all these stories, our town had a favorite: The Man in the Woods. The story goes that in the 80s, three teens were
-
By Naberius I’m stuck in this void of pain I know you don’t miss me, But every time I hear your voice, All I can think of is the way I would do anything to reset and change the truth. Although we never like change We know things would never stay the same And everything
The Cougar Review 