by Valerie Laken | Jan 1, 2020 | Poetry
By Sarah Myrick I became the other woman on a Tuesday night when he corrected my form for the first time on the squat rack. From then on, it was comic books and awesome new bands and pre-workout drinks—the kind that made us feel like bugs had crawled beneath...
by Valerie Laken | Jan 1, 2020 | Nonfiction
Nonfiction by Tess Hogan I wave my right hand in defeat, wincing at the sparks of pain shooting down my legs. We veer off the road onto the grass of someone’s lawn. The weeds are so high they brush my knees. My mom is laughing as I stretch down to my toes,...
by Valerie Laken | Jan 1, 2020 | Poetry
by Madison Whatley I discovered the music video at home alone and you guys, having been in Driftwood, surprised me at my door. I offered you plates of spaghetti, showed you this new song I liked, but you told me the song sucked and so did my spaghetti. I told...
by Valerie Laken | Dec 1, 2019 | Poetry
By Albert Lee “Your pain is unexceptional and does not matter until a white man feels it too.” — Jenny Zhang, “They Pretend to Be Us While Pretending We Don’t Exist” my Father’s name is my safe word& my Rapist has my Father’s nameif i close my eyes...
by Valerie Laken | Dec 1, 2019 | Fiction
Fiction by Martha Gonzalez El pueblo turned from buildings to trees, from trees to mountains, and mountains to a one-way road deep into the valley. A stone bridge connected the dirt road to the lush green grass on the other side. It separated the desert from...