Online Issues

  • Issue 35,  Poetry

    Misused

    By Riley Anspaugh

    photo by William Santos on Pexels

    The word “albeit”
    has been in my mouth all day,
    rolling on my tongue
    like a Gobstopper. The sun
    is warm, albeit slowly self-destructing.
    Hummingbirds are beautiful,
    albeit too fast to see. I’m in love
    with this girl, albeit
    she never looks at me.
    I’m stuck using albeit
    in all my sentences,
    albeit I don’t believe
    I’m using it correctly.
    I mean, when is the last
    time you ate a good meal
    off a dangling chandelier?

  • Issue 35,  Nonfiction

    A Love Supreme: Imagining my father’s madness

    by Natasha Williams

    photo collection of the author 

    The kitchen was thick with cigarette smoke and A Love Supreme, his favorite Coltrane. I danced with scarves wrapped around my undersized torso, one tied gypsy-like around my head. Dime-store clip earrings dangled at my neck. I twirled to his lap, where he slumped over his coffee cup at the dining room table, and pulled on his hand to join me. Anchored to his chair by something weightier than our life could contain, he chuckled, looking into his cup, waiting for the “holy” calling only he could hear.

  • Issue 35,  Poetry

    The Big Empty

    By Philip Jason

    photo by Adam Gonzales

    Schrodinger said the cat exists in the space
    between two states, but there is a third state
    where you open the box and find only yourself
    -Plato

    The butterfly in October was not supposed to be there.
    In October, the butterflies
    live in our dreams. Nonetheless, I saw it
    where it was, and decided I’d lost the taste
    for whining about the human condition.

  • Issue 35,  Translation

    “Hehasnoname, 1-5, 7” by Sharron Hass Translated from the Hebrew by Marcela Sulak

    photo by John Peter Apruzzese 

    Where are you going? Not far from here.

    Further down the slope of the corridor.

    There despair will be defeated.

    I’ve nothing against it but father’s dead body.

    Poetry (I still don’t know what it is exactly)

    and the shadow that changes its names since my birth.

     

    מּוזִיקַת הַּנָתִיב הָרָחָב

    שרון אַס

     

    לְאָן אַּתְ הֹולֶכֶת?

  • Online Issues

    LIT 35, Fall 2023

    Featuring an interview with Hannah V. Sawyerr (’22), nonfiction by Clare Cannon (’22), fiction by Drew Anderla (’15), hybrid by Elinora Westfall, poetry by Philip Jason, and art by Juan José Clemente.