
Carpentry | by Alistair Forrester
[to listen to the author read his poetry, click Read More below] Christ He ripped me a new one. As I stared into porcelain
[to listen to the author read his poetry, click Read More below] Christ He ripped me a new one. As I stared into porcelain
In I suppose a pinprick of hope, I look out his windshield wanting it to be true: northern lights or meteor showers or something to
Click the ‘Read More’ link to listen to the author read her open letter – it’s to herself, and it’s to you: Hey. I know
Dear Readers of So to Speak, Welcome to yet another fantastic online issue, featuring visual art, poetry, fiction, and nonfiction that emphasizes a particular intersection.
if you do not know how to without emptying it of anxious colors we are all rotten with choice but photosynthesis
JESUS DOESN’T LOVE THE LITTLE CHILDREN AS MUCH HAS HE USED TO ain’t that just the gotdamn truth? red & yellow? nope, don’t want em’
First, my father with his guitar and mellow tenor like a campfire, after a septennial of babies, bulimia, depression that clung like woodsmoke. Then, my
The morning I left him, I unrolled reams of toilet paper; it lay in soft defiance on the bathroom floor. He hated that. How many times
It’s 9:00 AM on a Monday morning in the Village. I’m on the fifth floor of Joffrey studios and I’m standing at the barre. My