I wrote one million poems not one featured the word brown. I scalpeled my own pulsing heart excised all trace of spice or silk routes stepped politely away from ugly …
There are clouds on the move to the end of their edges, close to the end of their own shapes. Frayed where nothing was ever woven, they unravel what no …
Her voice sliced through bar chatter. “A shot and a beer.” She pointed to the special on the board. The bartender nodded, sanctioning Kareena’s boldness with the movement of her …
der·e·lic·tion /ˌderəˈlikSH(ə)n/ noun the state of having been abandoned and become dilapidated. “every year valuable gardens start the slow slide to dereliction” We are looking for short stories, creative non-fiction, …
I would paint my skin Into a colorless color, & I would dye my hair Wear two blue contacts, & I would even Go for plastic surgery, but if I …
There is a jungle With lime coloured vines And trees That wear their bark The way that Green Mambas Wear their skin. I follow the sound of anklet bells Deeper …
In 2016, Philip Huynh was the co-winner of the Emerging Writers Award. Philip Huynh’s stories have been widely published in literary journals and in the Journey Prize Anthology. As the son …
Möbius Strip We thought my life was following the same curves as yours, Mama but I was slowly curling into the T W I S T of a möbius strip …
My first plane ride took me to rain splattering against the windows of the cab fingers were tightening over mine mother’s? I knew this was no vacation the squat house …
A year before I leave him for the last time, we take a trip together. Rachel is three, and we drive down to Maine in the summertime. By this time, …