GASTROPODA

Walking now through the year I tried to fly, when I hung at the bottom of a chimney, how I landed on the wall above the piano, how I...

walking along abandoned shores collecting and inspecting old houses of snails whose design plays as reminder of ways that nothing is so...

it looked like lace underwear on the rocks “is that a jellyfish” you turn to me front teeth wedged into a Sandringham rock and you said...

Found, flaccid, amongst my greens, I scooped you on the shovel’s tip and lobbed you over the wall. Repulsive as a toddler with a snotty...

The raindrop has dived 6500 feet. His destination—a diseased mango leaf. The raindrop does not dwell on wasted grandiose; he knows his...

Country garden mosquitos skate over decay translucent greens marble murky concrete surfaces end papering the end betraying stagnant mud...

Jean Velasco is a writer, EFL teacher, and translator from Naarm (Melbourne). Her work has appeared in Kill Your Darlings, Overland,...

I leap from the edge of the marble quarry. Through the woodsmoke I fall; through the sea of stars beyond your eyes; through the rain as I...

HONEYMOON everything smells like honeysuckle at the wedding and I think what it must be to love like leaving a tab open or a thrown...

The black iris dribbling down the fencepost. Don’t lie to me—I know you’ve seen it, too, soft moss & wet carpet of autumnal blood. Don’t...

the birds, the birds for aster, what i think of around you – wings rushing up in a massive unfolding, reshaping. we all relearn as adults...

without my therapist telling me to do so i realized that this whole “being sad and borderline suicidal and hopelessly in love” thing was...

Inspired from Fantastic Mr. Fox perhaps poverty was not what confined me to a life of sewage in the foundations that i destroyed with...

Junco, Cardinal blue, red flitting at the feeder in the swaying, cedar, sombre evergreen winter-clad. They flutter between branches, red,...

after the death of a neighbor kid, I think of Charlotte's Web in morning sun a spider meditates along its lattice next to my bench no...

How much must you scorn yourself To desire to cleave yourself In two And hope someone will notice The new creature you’ve become? Or...

& amazingly, after four days spent veering desperately away from the light, there is still jazz playing in the kitchen. still dinner to...

Thoreau went into the woods to confront the essential facts of life but I’ve been there too many times, too close to home, all those...

Eggos fresh from a concealed toaster, warm and soft in your palms. A delicacy. Curled up in soft, oversized sweatpants and a ratty green...