by Valerie Laken | Feb 1, 2019 | Poetry
By Taylor May Hagenbucher I remember days, long as a jet stream when summer seeped into our freckled skin. Without the monotony of a five-day school week, I had nothing but the growth of your white-blonde hair to tell me what month it was. Afternoons spent...
by Valerie Laken | Feb 1, 2019 | Poetry
By Joseph Sigurdson I don’t get high, I get healthy. Every 5 a.m. I wake with the dooming shiver and scare of what I think is death. The Xanax helps with that. But it’s important you understand that the pills are barely fun. What is fun is the stale malt-licky, the...
by Valerie Laken | Feb 1, 2019 | Fiction
By Jessica Pearce The Frick is right off Central Park, but most people don’t know it. Most go to the Met, which is more of a tourist trap than anything else. I go to the Frick every Friday afternoon, partially because I like how the art never changes and...
by Valerie Laken | Jan 1, 2019 | Poetry
By Taylor May Hagenbucher The book with no front or back cover, covered only by a Ziplock bag in my room. Pages, with only a spine. Years have not been kind to most of my grandmother’s things. If only I could have, I would have kept all of her pieces “worth...
by Valerie Laken | Jan 1, 2019 | Fiction
By Kingsley-Wynn Ukuku I’ll paint the setting for you. A blue house with brown shutters lives on McDonner Street. It’s falling apart, but it’s loved. You can tell by the fresh paint over the rotting wood. It’s small, but the front lawn can host a sale if you...