Donna Vorreyer
Ash Wednesday

Donna Vorreyer - Ash Wednesday

Donna Vorreyer is the author of Every Love Story is an Apocalypse Story (2016) and A House of Many Windows (2013), both from Sundress Publications. Her poems, reviews, and essays have appeared in… Read more »
Nicholas Molbert

Nicholas Molbert - Box

Originally from the Louisiana Gulf Coast, Nicholas now lives and writes in Cincinnati. You can find his work at The Adroit Journal, The Cincinnati Review, DIAGRAM, Missouri Review, Ninth Letter, and… Read more »
Kate Levin
Catching Up

Kate Levin - Catching Up

Kate Levin holds an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Michigan. Her work has appeared in The New York Times, The Boston Globe, The Nation, The Paris Review - The Daily, River Teeth, and… Read more »
Amy A. Whitcomb
Cause for Celebration

Amy A. Whitcomb - Cause for Celebration

Photo credit: Karin Higgins Amy A. Whitcomb is an artist and editor based in northern California. Her poetry and prose have recently appeared or are forthcoming in Witness, New South,,… Read more »
Emily Stoddard
Inheritance Rosarium

Emily Stoddard - Inheritance Rosarium

Emily Stoddard is a poet and writer in Michigan. Her writing appears or is forthcoming in Tupelo Quarterly, Ruminate, Radar, Dark Mountain, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, America, Cold Mountain Review, New… Read more »
Jed Myers
Night Song

Jed Myers - Night Song

Jed Myers was born in Philadelphia and lives in Seattle. He’s author of Watching the Perseids (Sacramento Poetry Center Book Award), The Marriage of Space and Time (MoonPath Press), and four… Read more »
Jana-Lee Germaine
Oklahoma, Blackbirds

Jana-Lee Germaine - Oklahoma, Blackbirds

Jana-Lee Germaine’s work has appeared or is forthcoming in Cimarron Review, Bellevue Literary Review, Painted Bride Quarterly, Poet Lore, Southern Poetry Review, The Carolina Quarterly, december,… Read more »
Taylor Supplee

Taylor Supplee - Passage

Taylor Supplee is a gay poet from the Midwest who earned his MFA from Columbia University where he serves as the Lucie Brock-Broido Teaching Fellow. A finalist for the 92Y Discovery Award in Poetry in… Read more »


Nicholas Molbert

Give me Xbox now, still, instead of toolbox or tacklebox and—with my created boxer, pixelated— I will bang the faces of shit-talkers because I was not ready myself years ago to be disgraced by the fisticuffs cementing our high-school hierarchies. Yet, after athletic P.E., unpadded, we gathered for the daily rehearsal of our manhood myth encased in the cage of the football stadium’s aluminum bleachers. But I only refereed. My fingers were the blurry ten-count. Standing, there, did not depend on how incessantly you could mash buttons. More that your hands rumbled when socked. We stood like tackle dummies. We did not clap or console. We staggered like foals. We flung our fists like joysticks. We stood quick, or tried, no matter how battered. We rematched because blood meant risk. Each brought a clean change of clothes. When it was done, one of us uncoiled the hose.
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