Anatomy of the Honey Bee, No. 13
When I dream of a war by Neesa Sonoquie
What I am saying is that my mind is eucalyptus trees on a beach while I am sleeping through another life. When I wake up crying invisible tears I can tell you there are children in them. I know this sounds sentimental, but frilly pink frosting on a cake is still part of the cake. These kinds of tears come from an umbilical pool…
Lung Disease
Cur.tain by Zachary Hamilton
i. We’ve seen armchairs yarned in factories as they take away great grandmother with cancer of the lungs, a string of long fluid woven into her assembly apt for a tapestry, a long room that is woven of her memorized thread of choice. A Volta television swamp floats until breath emerges gentleman like, heated from its length of rope nerve. Six looping pythons in one…