The Indicator
PROSE
- Elegy for the EvergreenWILLOW DELP
Evergreens watch throughout the bitterest winters: unchanging, unsympathetic. The weather strikes down its peers: thick snow weighs down their branches until they sink, limping underneath the pressure, and eventually succumbing to white blankets of frost. …Continue Reading Elegy for the Evergreen - EvergreenCAMILA MASSAKI GNOMES
I wonder if you know the pain of wishing as I do, of longing for the absurd. And it is foolish to ask. Perhaps you understand longing in a way that I never could. Have I told you of the drive? …Continue Reading Evergreen - In This Litany, A Lost LanternKAREN LEE
This kind of day called for an intervention of sorts, or at the very least, a grand meeting at the town hall located in the heart of Lanternland, where all the lanterns would gather and take stock of the situation. …Continue Reading In This Litany, A Lost Lantern
- Forever GreenRIS PAULINO
I scale the cracked shingles, the roof warm beneath my palms, / each grip a reminder that not all heights can be measured in feet. / The sun slips sideways, brushing against the window panes, / and I stand there, taller than the house that never grew with me. / I look off toward the sunset, / and see a treeline—…Continue Reading Forever Green - SteppingLILA SCHLISSEL
And everybody’s showing a rib-cage to the / rib-watchers, head thrown back/throat exposed so we can see the / ridges do you see me we are asking / don’t you see us…Continue Reading Stepping - Words UnsaidEMILY WYKOFF
You are full of empty promises / Lies hidden in kind equivocations / I’m tired of running in circles, chasing my tail / Trying to chase you …Continue Reading Words Unsaid
POETRY
Recent Events
Featured Fiction
PRISCILLA LEE
She opened her mouth and I knew her immediately, tiger-stripe highlights, grown-out gel nails, Casetify phone strap, four Target bags. She came up to me at the bus stop, said, “Hi! Excuse me, I’m so sorry, but is this stop for the bus that’s going to UMass?” and I knew, immediately.
Art Gallery
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Featured Poem
ELLA LIN
and she peels me
another mandarin. i imagine
we must look strange,
our mouths dripping juice like broken faucets
into the night. her black hair
falling further, with nothing below…
