GASTROPODA

Now all we eat is words. We used to eat sorrel and pawpaw and hen of the woods. We used to grow our own galangal and hot peppers and...

It’s different when a witch is dreaming. So, I’m careful to think of the future in what-ifs and vascular networks. Transient, diverging...

In my childhood, snow was magic. As the days grew shorter and the temperatures dropped, I became dizzy with the prospect of bright eyes,...

free to move between earth and sky, playing among the stars, never once considering the positions of the sun and moon in relation to my...

When the gorilla arrived at the front door the last thing Edna expected was this desperate hollow feeling inside. She lived day to day...

(they/she) is a queer writer & author based in Seattle, Washington.

We have come here to walk, convinced that a change of scenery and aimless miles are the answer, or the beginnings of an answer. An...

after James McNeill Whistler She stands at the window hair tucked away hands on stone still. Morning light gold through tapping young...

My newborn is blue, not breathing, her umbilical cord wrapped three times around her neck. “Is she okay? Is she okay?” My voice catches...

Editor's note: I was drawn to this piece because of that opening paragraph - dreamy, flowing images counterbalanced with a cold, hard...

-for franklin k.r. cline the snow shut the woods up for once & now everything is wet my boots & socks my cute little gloves all afternoon...

The old neighbor lady passed on a hot Monday morning. No one found her until the Mobile Meals breakfast and lunch stacked up against the...

Shrimp take their revenge in the shucking. Long after they have been hauled up, reeling in the creel, long after they have been beheaded...

Caught off guard by the question, I blurt the first thing that comes to mind: that I believe the twelve-to-six curveball is by far the...

Struggle, in Orange Orange, the color of sunsets missed all summer as I retreated to a bedroom, shades drawn. Orange in my core simmers,...

It was a cool gray morning when I arrived at The Facility. They were expecting me–I’d booked The Experience yesterday. “Mr. Backus,...

A step past the marker and I lose the path, sink in a mud slough, fern beds, skunk cabbage, the marish and mire I’m not meant to walk...

She spends her weeks in the cubicle, passing documents up and down the food chain. Men in suits roll past her like waves in the ocean,...

Editor's note: The act of receiving Rebecca's responses to the following questions was, to borrow a line from the original poem, an act...

source text: https://www.wsj.com/articles/a-swiss-alps-hotel-frozen-in-time-11607614389 Amanda Williams is a neurodivergent American...