Hothouse
Literary Journal
Category: Poetry
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Divya Goruganthu Monday, I am a raccoonclutching a coffee mugdigging through the trashof my inbox. Wearingsweatpants and hoodiesin the winter but,the rest of the yearI wear pajama shortsand pretend they are pants.But I always have a realshirt. Sometimes it evenhas buttons.I work my real jobtyping on a real computermaking fake images appearon a real monitor…
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Trin Viet Ho Home lights go low brief cries for your mother rest into the old rocking chair swish creak your baby hand finding the crook of my neck your tummy on my tummy your chest on my chest swish creak your baby breath deepening no more cries for mother except mine swish creak safety…
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Sarah Forest Cisco I saw through the midlands of my town to the creaking chair where my mother sat, dying while still weaving her gold and purple scarves as fast asever. I look down the dusty road to my aunt’s house. It was as far as our mom would let us roam initially. It is…
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C.V. Schultz Mule-jaw straight to the brain, I’m bordering on a Samsonian meltdown. I got my eyes gouged out on 2nd and Mesquite in a broke-down house with wild cats watching from the backyard. When’s the time to kill again? When’s the time to reap? Did I miss it? Did I miss it? I’m a…
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Eden Rumsey Bones lay silent in decorous spread Across the springtime moor On their wildflower bed. Thrushes in the ribcage Nest along the spine, Raising baby songbirds In lung space and thyme. Swallowtail chrysalides cling to the skull, Dormant souls in flux ’til Ancient instincts pierce the lull. As above, so below: Rabbits burrow underneath…
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Wynn Wilkinson for K and the cicadas we had to shout overA summer curse to be endured (BEAR)They sound (to her) like oil drills (BORE)Their calls cut deep, through wax and stone (GROAN)Then into oil (and ear) drums spill (ROAR)Buzzing on a Xiangshan boulder, We’d snuck off to dream up Answers to the question: “Can…
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Alex Compton I Salt, Earth, and Air betwixt I bathed in the night’s palindrome With ghosts at my back II The space between hair and mind The ardor one clings to A sense; diminished III Fragments form a whole What is this tingling, this sentimentality Water recedes and passes over IV The history of one…
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Cain Yin first day bringing a gun to chekhov’s party, & here i am in the rose colored coat, here i am with old stomping boots, lines of cheer on my good natured face–look, today i am growing old, today i am in a room full of people, today i love them & they love…
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Cain Yin you say i’ll give you anything baby, just please don’t leave me, please don’t go but you’re lying- we both are– about how the dragon leaves the story unsought for, about how long he can go on pulling out teeth. i’m not so good at playing the dragon, but just this once, i’ll…
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By Dylan Moses A Little While Later, Tobacco smoke performed a veil when walking into confession and the virgin man asks ‘Face to face or behind the screen?’ Anonymity take me away, peel open and scrape the callus off like finger nail cutters after monkey bar afternoons He told lies and it was entertaining He…
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By Lucia Llano (how much longer until i can touch you? i’m tired of kissing telephone lines.) –two lovers– on a telephone wire, slender ,but, not quite birds. tightrope feet blistered and tired red solo string-phone distorts e very ot her word. robin-egg figurines on an electric cross snorting each other in, they’d be on…
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By Turi Sioson licking your teeth between the braided sweat, i fancy my hands are what you like best. with painted sea and sticky longing, pulled from your neck like black embossing, i trace the holy ghost upon your bicep. this is where my re-religioning springs from my chest, where our hands meet under my…
Hothouse 