Genesis 11:8

By Ashley Hynd I peered through the telescope. Saw 42 constellations. Insignificant. Connect the dot skies, a dollhouse of cosmic dust, alphabetic blocks C H O                               the messy floor of God’s playroom. His mother drunk on consequence never held him […]


By Rebecca Allison Hand me the tarot cards. ‘Ology over ‘onomy. Plant your words. The future written in particles. Thousands of miles, the distance to their dance floor. Atoms mambo to the beat. Music falls in silence. No oxygen to translate. Gaseous balls glint and glow. Their steps, Morse code. Dots and dashes recorded and […]

A Slow Descent Into Madness

By Manreet Lachar The descent into madness, he thinks, is a slow one. It starts when he’s young, looking at the night sky while his mother tells him stories about the pretty stars and hums him lullabies to get him to sleep. Then, all of a sudden, his mother is gone and he tells the […]

We were there once

By Stephanie Shokoff Extended by circumstance into endless waters you’re searching for that happen stance moment of alignment. Whispers come to hear. Fruition is framed from the narrative of time having waited for the reaping. Thinking beyond the margin of convention, as people are designed by the times and their fashions. To set yourself on […]

Vincent, 1889

By Carina Rampelt one lonely candle burns in the window of the lunatic asylum. the sky slips into a silk chemise behind a dark cypress tree and spritzes herself with midnight oil tonight is ripe for dancing. the melody begins, hesitantly at first, then growing, pulsing filling the sky with golden light, and all at […]

Light Jumpers

By Amanda Scheifele See the sea my playmate Come up and fly with me And bring your star points five Climb up to feel alive Slide down my comet tail Into the sea of stars And we’ll be light jumpers Forever more

When You Wish Upon A Satellite

By Breanna Kettles I used to make my summertime wishes on satellites and passing planes. (I thought the sparkly “stars” were more powerful). I knew the rules, and said the rhyme, and without fail… Nothing. To be fair, I always wished for crazy things. Like super powers, or a horse, or to make the school […]


By Rebecca Fletcher Carol’s teacher once said that Orion was a summer constellation, and therefore could not be seen in the winter. Her teacher was an idiot. Lying in a half-finished snow angel she didn’t want to destroy, she found him by the one – two – three of his belt, and traced the form […]