The Indicator
PROSE
- The BuyerEDWYN CHOI
“Incredible,” the buyer answered, still looking up. If the plot of trees were a painting, he resembled a smear on the finished canvas, a sharp, dark smear. The wind was not blowing anymore. He felt a little warmer. …Continue Reading The Buyer - the way homeSERIN HWANG
The woods behind my old high school burned down the winter after my senior year. They were gone within a day, leaving behind only the ash that settled on my car and the smoke that dimmed the sky, turning the sun a blazing orange. I was home from college at the time, abandoning crisp New England autumn for a dull West Coast winter, snowless but mildly chilly, until it wasn’t. California was still burning when I got back on the plane….Continue Reading the way home - Ode on a Warm SeaVENUMI GAMAGE
My fingers trace the smooth blue tile on the wall as we walk in together, catching on jagged line after line of grout. This is how I would map your body, catching on and pausing at every next new tile of you. We swing our balmy limbs onto the benches, like synchronised divers; in this moment we are perfect score, perfect twins. …Continue Reading Ode on a Warm Sea
- Self-Portrait Axed & OpenGABBY AVENA
A child is a fruit, I am told. Time carves / my center: two bodies twine inside / like aphids around bark. Harvested / fruit, your flesh emerges peach-soft & fuzzy, / sweetness suckling upon release. I shudder: / the taste is fear, or relief. A child is a fruit: from which / a new world is born. A child is a fruit: dropped & bruised / & poisoned….Continue Reading Self-Portrait Axed & Open - New EyesBEA AGBI
the hospital’s radiology and imaging floor / I took a look at my bones and the x-ray confirmed what I already knew – / that these branches are palms, this skin bark, no difference between breath / and chlorophyll save the distinctions / of time. When I’m no longer standing / Still waiting for a word from the old gods / When I’ve given up on keeping my lips clenched…Continue Reading New Eyes - Starchild 11:25CHELA CUNNINGHAM
i’ve been to the movies six billion times and kept every ticket. i’ve raged and written. lined up all my bodies and carefully selected who i wanted to be that night….Continue Reading Starchild 11:25
POETRY
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Featured Fiction
KAREN 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. And how peculiar the situation was. Well, perhaps peculiar would not be the best word to describe it. After all, a child had just died.
Art Gallery
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Featured Poem
HANNAH KWON
From above the bridge, you see half-frozen streams and hear the rush of water pulsating beneath layers of ice. And as if in immediate response, your body hums alive, blood rushing to your numb fingertips, the static-like buzz a reminder of how fragile the flesh you blanket over the thing that lurks inside of you actually is. Your foot hits the ground with a soft thud, and suddenly, you are no longer you – no, you are more yourself than you have ever been…
