BY LEIGH HOPKINS
These days, no one wants to talk about it. The answer is “I can’t talk about it.” The same five words released in a warm, slow leak, uttered in the same, tired inflection.
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BY MARISSA KORBEL
I don’t know how to talk about being Jewish.Whether I want it or not, an ancestral fear lives in my body. Fear of being singled out, of being known, shamed, stoned, beaten, run out of town, killed.
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BY ZINN ADELINE
INGREDIENTS: 1 entire grade A Vagina; equal parts virgin/whore; make sure the whore hasn’t been trimmed off; about 750 grams; easily available at your local grocer
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BY LEIGH HOPKINS
The artist is filling the town with ghosts. She stacks cinderblock statues in forgotten chain link corners and adorns them with colored glass, sun-bleached agave skeletons, and rusty tools from the belly of the desert. She gives them faces like saints.
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BY MARISSA KORBEL
Hipbone jutting out at the right angle, cocked and loaded, ready to go off like a gun. I used to wiggle down when I walked, because it made all my flesh bounce and the rhythm of my wobble pleased me because it pleased them.
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BY RIOS DE LA LUZ
I used to run long distance when I was in middle school. I wore gold and green to represent my school. I was not a formidable opponent. I was very skinny. I was barely a person, but I was.
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