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October 15, 2018 / barton smock


for very little
over a bowl of nothing
all of this
has been to pray

October 15, 2018 / barton smock

person Cynthia Manick, five poems


Cynthia Manick is the author of Blue Hallelujahs (Black Lawrence Press, 2016). A Pushcart Prize nominated poet with a MFA in Creative Writing from the New School; she has received fellowships from Cave Canem, Hedgebrook, the MacDowell Colony, Poets House, and the Saltonstall Foundation of the Arts among others. A winner of the 2016 Lascaux Prize in Collected Poetry, her work has appeared in the Academy of American Poets Poem-A-Day Series, Los Angeles Review of Books (LARB), Muzzle Magazine, The Wall Street Journal, and elsewhere. She currently resides in Brooklyn, New York


In My Heaven
after RC Lewis

Everything begins with
hunger. Some crave Bartlett
pears, trees that breathe,
playing violin on gold roads.

Others only answer to their
animal names, knowing
which heart chamber calls

to the wolf, the sheep,
the jackal. In my heaven
the currency is words–
people sing or recite

verb to noun…

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October 12, 2018 / barton smock

separations for unlikeness

every smoker
a grocery cart
for a six-
fingered ghost


all children come from god

(the theatrical

October 11, 2018 / barton smock

to palm

we’ve all
that one
says death
is a prayer
that’s changed

who numbers children
from ten…

treats grief
like sunburn
& claps
for a fish

October 10, 2018 / barton smock

person Jessie Lynn McMains, two poems


Jessie Lynn McMains is a poet, writer, zine-maker, and small press owner. Her words have recently appeared or are forthcoming in Awkward Mermaid, Wyrd & Wyse, Juke Joint, Occulum, Memoir Mixtapes, and others; she’s also a contributing writer for Pussy Magic. You can find her website at, or find her on Tumblr, Twitter, and Instagram @rustbeltjessie


forget the fuck away from me (origin stories of a safety pin girl)

coil magnetic reels back into cassettes
collect scraps flaked from yellowed glue bind
sheafs once held by rubber bands now
snapped & staples all a-rusted

static- magnetic between voices graves ghosts
so loud & sorrow-slick my blood smeared
with all that dark lilac remember

string me a necklace sing me a song decipher
me these stories how I was born to hate
pink dresses’ itched rustle & cobweb silence
by four I was lost to the basement carved

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October 10, 2018 / barton smock



the father
does he have
his notes

on how to leave (an infant



the sister she is in
my ear (is her darkness

the size
of a quarter


I mean to run a bath
but don’t


(doom has a brother

for a coffin

October 9, 2018 / barton smock

person Joseph Murphy, three poems


Joseph Murphy’s poetry has appeared in a wide range of online and print journals. His second collection of poems, Having Lived, was published in 2018; his first collection, Crafting Wings, in 2017. Murphy is a member of the Colorado Authors’ League and for eight years (2010-2018) was poetry editor for an online literary publication, Halfway Down the Stairs.


Celebration of Being


Under an equal moon
I see the mountain lake
as an infinity of reflection
as the center
of a boundless faith

I see the lake and the stride of the moon
loose from me
like vapor
loose from the cove of a skull

These images
without distance
out deep in time

As I remember
I know
the angled wheel
from which my own self
is spun


From a rooftop
I watch gulls weave
over seawall and pine
over a village’s
well-worn paths

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