OUTRAGE CONTEST: If I Am Guilty of Anything

Sam Cross

Let me ride my weasels

            into the unrepentant cherry blossom

of an alternate dawn, where I will declare our first

            holiday for the new light that has gushed

and swallowed you, my beached whale,

             my empty thought bubble,

my ingrown eyelash, I see now

            that even you are mine for the grabbing

Resurrect the chimney sweeps,

             the grave robbers, the organ grinders,

the peep show, the leech

              Put them all back to work

on an alchemy for the average rag,

             on weaving a new carpet of crude

from sea-to-sea and wall-to-wall,

              on the purification of our depleted

and poisoned wells of native blood

             I want them to vaporize the glaciers

so we can all huff the virgin fog of our prehistory

             Watch me swap beads for another continent

Watch me whip Satan out of a sinner

            You can't fake that, if you were here

from the beginning, you already know

            I am not another dirty, inflatable necktie,

waddling out of a gilded egg

             with a grin trained to endure you

I am here because I know something

             they won't tell you, hand-to-God,

a truth no one believes you deserve:

             I am Santa Claus,

my trademarked wink above the grim bed of your torches,

             and I want to sleep with you,

stringing my name in golden block letters around your family tree,

             and the universe will burn forever,

waste being an illusion projected by descendants of a single protozoa,

              and that is not who we are

You do not have to hunt for your heaven, my children

            It is my gift to you




Nonfiction
Poetry

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Prisoner of War
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Clockwork
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Leather and Velvet
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This Poem is about a Small Town in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and a College I Hated in Massachusetts
Ron Riekki


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Sometimes When My Wife Comes Home She Doesn't Kiss Me
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When I Was an EMT, We Never Got in Any Trouble if a Patient Died, But if You Scratched the Side of the Ambulance They Would Fire You
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Janna Layton


The Search
Tim Kercher


Gentrification Download
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The Ciudad Juarez Side of Sunrise
Yvette A. Schnoeker-Shorb


While Driving West on I-96, Wind Disrupts the Radio Waves
Paige Leland


Anything, Anywhere, Anytime
Yvette A. Schnoeker-Shorb


OUTRAGE CONTEST: To the Fourth Estate
Marianne Taylor


OUTRAGE CONTEST: For My Sister
Mirri Glasson-Darling


OUTRAGE CONTEST: My Mother Finally Tells Him Off
Sandra Inskeep-Fox


OUTRAGE CONTEST: Roe v. Wade
Alexis Beckford


OUTRAGE CONTEST: African American
Alexis Beckford


OUTRAGE CONTEST: Rebel Rebel
Sam Cross


OUTRAGE CONTEST: If I Am Guilty of Anything
Sam Cross

When Poems Sound Better in Times New Roman
Paige Leland


A Metaphor for how Trash Day Reminds Me that I’ll Never Be Alone No Matter How Hard I Try
Paige Leland


In The Dark
Alison Stone Eric Greinke


Petals and Roots
Alison Stone Eric Greinke


Fiction