Artwork by A.R. Tivadar It was a cloudy, early spring morning. Not even roosters were awake yet. Multiple young ladies, chaperoned by parents, grandparents or aunts made their way to a remote manor in the Carpathian mountains. A terrace was set up outside with umbrellas, benches, and appetisers. Older women with elaborate brooches on their coats and peacock feathers in their hats whispered to one another when Mrs Mihaela Ardeleanu, maiden name Codrean

call me home. it goes +380

a heart can / growl like a stomach, and be so unsettled. I like the / thin veins like a shadow. like rain / tracing trails on a window, as though it weren't sand.

Missing you is like that. / I carry you around, and you follow me. / The sun rises and sets every day, just as I miss you deeply every day.

I send my love in waves and whispers, / letters folded with prayer, / voice trembling into calls that slice the oceans, / hoping each syllable finds you alive,...

Silence will echo long after the cries / The hunger, the famine, the heartbreaking goodbyes / And should evil prevail / Through the greed and the lies, / The silence will echo long after the cries

Some love burns like a holy fire / Leaves no shelter, leaves no skin / After that, you don’t chase heaven / You just want quiet to live in

He was a man in service of the seeking. Sworn to the storm.

Rosella Weigand is a writer, reader, + dreamer. She currently resides in her imagination.

Joined underwater Found breathing just fine

Christian Madsen is an Actor, Producer and Poet living in Los Angeles, California.

I wake inside the rumor of myself— a throat unbuttoned from its blood. Some mornings, the mirror hisses choose. So I do: I choose the damage that glows. The room smells faintly of rust  & raw meat. All my faces file a complaint. Each one shaping holiness  from a different wound. I inventory the artifacts: a blister shaped like a confession, a spine rehearsing its own refusal. In the kitchen, a knife hums in its sleep— its dream: a tongue that never stops splitting. History wa

don’t call it necklace   if it left a ring of sleep     where my breath should’ve lived

(after the snow, after the silence)

The orange bulb falls off and a selenite rectangle appears 

She talked too fast Wore heels too high

First kitty comes around You’re so thrilled to be picked

Well heaven only knows my heart is picking up pace Pumpin' out parts of me like a flooding lake

You're gonna feel bad in your compound now

In woods, meant to be like a crab at the bottom  of the sea,