Issue 38
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Ode to Edith Massey (Aunt Ida in John Waters’ Female Trouble)
Art by Bill Wolak
By Michael Montlack
Secretly we all want to strut like you, squeezed
into that laced-up leather catsuit, snaggle-toothed,
bleached hair teased into a cotton candy mess—
how easily you made Mae West pedestrian.Shouldn’t we all have an Aunt Ida to guide us
in that purr simultaneously girlish and granny:
I worry that you’ll work in an office … The world
of the heterosexual is a sick and boring life.Virgin Mary, Egg Lady,
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All My Polemics: An Outline
Art by the author
By Jenna Cardinale
The stretched weight of a heavy
bag questions our unbalanced commitment
to sustainability.An occasional table need not
display faded and framed photos
or a defined narrative.A hangover can hang
over a whole day and
we should discuss fairness.The funeral parlor passes
out promotional pens to encourage
brand loyalty.Just place your memories inside
this deluxe lacquered box.
There is a choice
of colors. -
Two From Daniel Felsenthal, “Out of Time/Admiration” and “The Beach is a Terminal You Leave When You Die”
Art by Andy Mister
by Daniel Felsenthal
Out of Time/Admiration
The toughest subject
to write on is time
Everyday I’m tryingI just run bone dry
Ba-dum where’s
That hi-hat?
A Hoover flag
Waves bare
In the pocket
Cue drumsFor the meantime—
That soft word
For nervous hours
Put to pasture
We learn methods
To enjoy these
Summer strolls as
Cretinous wild
Childs starry and
Scotch-drunk. -
I Blew Out the Birthday Candles
Art by Ana Prundaru
by Madison Ellingsworth
I wear a baggy shirt and baggy jeans to Sophie’s housewarming party because that’s what I saw all the attractive Korean and Japanese tourists wearing while working at Gilbert’s Chowder House this week, and now that I’m off the clock I can wear whatever clothes I want, which really means I can look bad in different clothes from the black leggings and black v-neck top I wore working at Gilbert’s, which now stink like scallops.
Everybody at the party is wearing trendy corset tops and Adam Sandler shorts and tennis skirts,
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“Sabbath” by Alfonsina Storni Translated from the Argentinian Spanish by Ulyses Razo
Art by Adelaide Snow
I rose early & walked barefoot
Through the halls. I stole to the gardens
And kissed the plants.
I soaked up the clean breath of the earth,
Thrown on the grass;
I bathed in the fountain that green achiras
Surround. Much later, wet with water,
I brushed my hair. I perfumed the hands
With scented serum of sampaguita. Squeamish,
Fine herons
Stole blonde shreds from my dress.
Then I put on my bugle suit, lighter
Than the very same gauze. -
Two from The Land of Missing Children by Carole Symer
Art by Monica Banks
Ars Poetica w/
Oxygen Tanka slow gesture at first I start w/my sad girl face Mama’s wan smile
that boys fall for the coldness of her waves the sheer drop
of my eight-year-old chilly prophecy not knowing better I jump into Sister’s burning lake
grabbing her wrists oxygen tank on my back exit plan in place every single time
it hurt to watch Sister surrender whatever loss of tongue in the shape of a gun
or was it a ballpoint swept from her hand &
