some poems i wrote, so that my name has favorable google search results
Two poems from Emma Kelly for your Sunday.
A poem from Scout Turkel. On eggs, seeds, and donuts.
Two poems about land, culture, and dis(place)ment written by Valerie Wu.
Sofia Rakic’s tragic poem takes us on a sealife trip.
A anthology of art from (young) women around the world. Check out Tunnel’s global reach!
The season of graduation is upon us…. Reflect with Jack Anderson’s poem.
Our gift to you: A review of Amir Mitchell-Townes’s “Blacne,” out this Tuesday.
Words and photos by Angel Fabre felix’s poem
the anger in one’s soul will soon prove to no longer have meaning the urge for violence will soon take over
and all that will be left is
the blood of the innocent and not so innocent soon the world will be faced with the world’s blood on the world’s hands
nobody’s sins will be forgiven
suppose we are all condemned?
monday until you are comfortable with being alone
you will never know if
you’re choosing someone
out of love or loneliness.
Like Ian Words by A.A. Reinecke It is cold like a prison like Antarctica gray and on the folded bit a dribbling of blood the shape of: Minnesota. St. Paul. That’s where he’s from. St. Paul. It is noon now. That was breakfast. The room was a sideboard with bits of fractured glass. The windows spoke in tongues or through lust strained in milk. Q: Do you love me? A: I don’t know. Chai was sweet grain melted like the wetness of my mouth and your tongue tasted still like Ian and his carpet and his gin like a plow for planting prohibition. Q: The flask? A: No. My plastic cup membrane shed quartz like history nabbed from a headband. The 1920s. Q: You eating? Coffee? Anything? A: No. St. Paul. That’s where he’s from. St. Paul. Photo credit: Brandon Yung