Writing is an act of resistance
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woman king
By Emily Mardelle I cut my hair off because my father would slide his hands over my stomach and tell me how fat I was getting and I I think sometimes I want to make a woman king so the moon can finally avenge the girls in the nighttime imagine her thick hair long…
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My Last Teacher Said My Thesis Doesn’t Have to Be a Sentence
By Yennie Cheung Bullshit. I call bullshit. It is bullshit that your last teacher ever said this, and bullshit that you think I’d ever believe that anyone who has ever assigned an essay in the history of essay-assigning would say that a thesis statement can be anything but a sentence. One sentence. Not a…
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Lamar Speaks for Lots and Lots of Us
By Philip Styrt We know that the President lied As he tried to corrupt the election; Still, we’ll “let the people decide.”1 Whether he should be disqualified; But for now we’ll provide our protection. We know that the President lied, Though we think it should be classified, And we’ll try to deny the connection:…
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No Vacancy
By Elizabeth Shack The hermit crab outgrows his shell and ranges across the ocean floor searching for a better home so he can grow a little more. Imagine the crabby billionaire hoarding the best and biggest shells while other crabs roam, all exposed without secure, protected cells. One crab has an enormous home; the…
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Air Floyd: A Ritardando*
(AKA “It’s Gotta Be The Shoes…”) By Hakim Bellamy George Floyd. The latest in a long noose of names to die in the street. At the hands and feet of police. Public asphyxiation is nothing new, but it has always drawn a crowd even on Sundays down South. However, he still couldn’t get…
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Winter of Needle and Thread
By Caroline Bock Dedicated to Grace Cavalieri Nana makes you learn needle and thread and you stick your fingers—and blood—“Don’t bleed on the cloth,” she says. In your hands is a scrap, an addition to the family’s patchwork quilt. “Stitch. Even stitches,” she insists. A bulb of red appears as you pull the needle…
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Ghosts in the Eucalyptus Grove
By Julie Martin Ending with a line from Brooke Jarvis Footsteps churn sassafras, mud, and fern leaves into confetti in a continual cycle– germinate, thrive, die, decay, give way to new life. The hollowed log of a King Billy pine garlanded with moss and mist serves as a lair for the transverse stripes that…
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the heart of the matter
By Yvonne G Patterson eldritch energies twist and warp the skin of space, bend time, weave shields of plaited light, cloak the heart bodies orbit, surfing unleashed power’s vortex grasp at coloured baubles glittering in furnaces fuelled by matter’s dying screams dark theatres host phantasmic pageants vast auroras writhe upon the stage magicians’ spectral…
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Introducing a New Writers Resist Editor
We’re delighted to announce a new addition to our editorial team, Debbie Hall, who’ll be joining Ying Wu in reviewing poetry submissions. Debbie is a psychologist and writer whose poetry has appeared in a number of literary journals and anthologies, including the San Diego Poetry Annual, Serving House Journal, Sixfold, Poets Reading the News, Poetry24, Bird’s Thumb,…