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Matt Dube
R boyz electric? The animal stink of hormones sucked into cells, the churn of drop d chords. Differential equations govern the slush of punching and tears. I’m alone. So no, more chemistry than Galvin’s frog legs jumping from charged posts to pole position. Whole choruses lost to reverb and distortion. I can think for myself.…
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Stuti Sinha
I don’t know what childhoods are supposed to smell like. Mine smells sharp and clean, like chlorine pool water. I race from the gates of Beldih down the long and dusty driveway to the pool side. My shoes pick up gravelly dust from the road which transfers onto the wet tiles of locker rooms. The…
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Clayton Shirk
As he crosses the street to the church, carrying with him an aluminum baseball bat and the remaining beers in the 15 pack (maybe there’s 10 left, maybe there’s five, he does not know), as his foot crosses the curb that separates the road and the church’s parking lot, one snowflake flutters down from the…
