by Adeline Macdonald Clean steam iron the linen sheets, white and crisp and beautiful and without fault or fold White walls upon white walls with nothing to upset you or hurt you or make you cry or want to leave or want to think Do you love it? Is it…
by Sudeep Adhikari the wet triangles, sliding down the slant of liquid maroons they look at me, with the eyes of the black-hole love i can’t see what is in there, expect for the blood of nothingness, an absence batshit drunk pegged against the sine waves of wooden erections, carefully…