Statement of Record

The Latest

Two Poems by David Dephy

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by David Dephy

I will never understand the world where:
The Life is the Death.
The Death is the Love.
The Love is the Lie.
The Lie is the Truth.

Coming of Age(s)

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I never really considered my twenties until now. But here I am.

How can it be that I’m now old enough to be left for a younger woman? To have to attend a funeral on my birthday? To embrace apathy by fixating on work, which mercifully leaves little time for self-reflection at the end of the day (supplemented with weed at night to ensure dreams don’t...

all about love, nearly

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by Andrea Scrima

I know the tidal pull of the blood; that a mere glance can send plumes of fire curling through the nerves. After J. arrived: the sudden, mind-controlling molecular saturation of pheromones in the air, a maddening inability to concentrate, to think of anything at all. Intoxication, situational insanity, delusion. An attraction so fierce it made...

#MillennialPocalypse

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by Dan Ayres

Few noticed it at first, the initial wave of deaths. Perhaps there were a few less Deliveroo drivers clogging up the streets. A dearth of mocha-choca-calorie-free-free-range-organic-fairtrade-edamame-latte pop up vendors. A few less online quizzes.

The Impossibility of Zero

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by Adéla Knapová

He thought back to the motionless blue eyes and the almost inaudible crack of the skull as he stood on the pebble beach and watched the young woman’s body rhythmically emerging and then disappearing back into the waves.

Three Gertrude Stein Inspired Poems

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Rudy (after Gertrude Stein)

He’s senile.
He’s a scene
I’ve seen
in Aisle C.
He sees the Nile
in Aisle C.
See the scene of the Nile
Seen on the isle?
See the sea
seen in Aisle C?
The sea near this isle
isn’t the scene he sees.
but the isle he sees
...

Dirty Rubles

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By Ben Tanzer

On Inception, Gaslighting and Trump/Russia: Or how Dirty Rubles Connects the Dots on a Story You May Think is Confusing, But Really Isn’t So Confusing After All.

Sober

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by Jamie Valentino

For as long as he could remember there were two of him, like an evil twin. They looked identical but were fraternal in behavior, though this other person wasn’t necessarily a villain. His intentions were neither bad nor good. Like the couple times he smoked...

Four Poems by Margo Taft Stever

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by Margo Taft Stever

Every year, American factory farmers trap sows in cramped crates;
they birth and crush ten million piglets under the weight of their own bodies.

Three Poems by Uche Nduka

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By Uche Nduka

partly because love
travels through much
of these lines

ears & glyphs follow

something like a rash move
& various kinds
of self-denial

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