Kazden Bracket
Fieldwork
Henry Woodland
The Experiment
Jscob Elordi Poem
I imagine watching machinery make machinery is the most perverse
act a person can witness, as in: what if I was conjured into existence
through the teamwork of cultists and not, as I was informed,
born of a human under the usual conditions: semi-immaculate
conception, cabbage patch, the heritage of convicts strapped
in tall ships whose princesses were phantasms of oyster shells
and galactic shapes in peacocks, pursuing music to its vanishing
point. There’s a certain pitch of twilight that activates me
like the Manchurian Candidate, spreads me thin like snow
or stained glass straining to hear whispers on the heath,
vexed and pathetic, wet with incense, cleft then sewn together,
pandering to life, heaving, beating for a while, possibly
screaming, not quite lust or disgust but a secret third thing,
a third of a secret thing, a photon becoming a wave
then waving as you slink away. I guess what I’m trying to say
is that I too have succumbed to life’s feints at sincerity:
for example, I feel I am the painting in all analogies
involving paintings – not the painter, let me be clear,
nor even the paint, but the half-hearted representation
it pretends to propose. You know no artwork should be
counted on to accommodate the whole of your worldview,
but it is alluring that the structure of an epiphany wouldn’t
abandon you like the effect of amphetamines on opening
the door to an intervention; miracles have details, it was said
at the smoke ceremony, where my Asian girlfriend
told me gender is a performance. I am performing the role
of a super shitty guy: tutor, boyfriend, brother, prone to
claiming the puzzle has pieces missing or rearranging
them as if certain I can depict something approaching
something like a dog approaching with a bone
pleading: couldn’t this be ascribed meaning?
Isn’t this more or less a commendable effort at presence?
Olive Parker
Bones and the Angel
T.C. Hell
A flat massive thing already
Jane Dabate
Cup Drove Daisy
Reid Williams
Made on Honor, Sold on Merit
Sunset Limited
Rachel Dastgir
The Rabbit
Sedrick Chisom
G 32 22 32
Colton Karpman (Founding Editor)
Editor’s Note
Dilara Koz (Art Director)
Em Bauer (Illustrator)
Isaac Zamet (Poetry Editor)
William McGuire (Prose Editor)