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GASTROPODA

Main: Welcome

Mama's Car by Ariadne Will

I’m walking in the rain when I start humming that song from Mama’s car all those years ago. We had only listened to cassette tapes then,...

Things You Own by Maggie Hart

I meet a man obsessed with bones. He runs impatient fingertips over my ribcage & grabs my hip bones & kisses my teeth instead of my lips,...

Three poems by Wanda Deglane

entomology Figure 1. My cousin tells me about her new garden and the little commune of fuzzy spiders that lives there. How they follow...

Spectacle by Lydia Gwyn

I saw them all–their heavenly bodies glowing above the dark gap where we lived, the open-mouthed land built by thrusts and faults and...

I, a Piper by Landon Wittmer

An indefinite number of rats populate the world. All estimates fall in the billions, but this does not include the number of mice,...

Three types of rocks by Devaki Devay

Igneous: The way I began to love you was igneous, something molten bubbling over the cracks, into the air of me. I held it in my palms...

Bitter Birds by Bucket Siler

Lock your bicycle in the alleyway where the restaurants empty their trash. Food truck exhaust mixed with garbage smell and the pavement...

I'm the Squid by Angela Townsend

I have a friend who never uses the word “creatures.” I’m not sure I’ve heard him say “living things.” If he is speaking of humans,...

The Rent in the Galaxy by Travis Flatt

When Earth wakes up thirsty and reaches for the nightstand and can't find the glass she always sets out the night before, she'll think,...

Signals by Mikki Aronoff

The teacup rattles on its saucer as it crosses the space between wife and husband. The wife raises her eyebrows for a refill, then...

Grosseries by Julius Olofsson

With a shopping basket in his hand, he stands there. He took the bus. Others around him came riding upon genetically engineered Great...

Wool garden by Marisca Pichette

Fountains—found-tains—found, fond, An ain is what? Plain, pain, air lodged in your nose. Breath like sun-bleached spring, winter hangs on...

these aerial views— by Abbie Doll

mountain ranges reduced to anthill craters, sprawling suburbs compressed to crop circle parking lots everything shrinks (up here) every...

Dear Bottlefly by Eric Fisher Stone

Your wings murmur hymns that the dead return to life, your body’s gleaming bean robbing the rabbit’s eye. Your feet’s rancid needles rub...

The Garden Stirs by Devon Neal

In dark December, stiff January, it’s always a brisk walk to the car to start and turn the heat on, or the weekend grocery trips, the...

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