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Blessing or Lesson

More often than not we let ourselves be surrounded by negativity. And things keep going wrong and we believe it’s wrong and unfair and we feed the cycle till we’re buried underneath it all.

After a while, we stop asking if that’s how it should be. And then we forget how it all started. We are forever lost in the darkness inside ourselves that was originated elsewhere but placed there. And we believe we deserve it. And we believe it’s our own damn fault. And it is. And it’s not. It is because we let it grow and take over. It’s not because we are not responsible for the environment we live in.

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No. 3 Cover Designed by Paul Fuentes

We are happy to announce that our No. 3 cover is by artist Paul Fuentes. We cannot wait to get these prints into your hands. The magazine will be released in February. 

We are STILL accepting submissions for our No. 3 mag until December 20th.

 

Submissions can include:

FICTION•POETRY•NONFICTION•CREATIVE

NONFICTION•VISUAL ARTS•PHOTOGRAPHY

MUSIC REVIEWS•FASHION EDITORIALS

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Native Oval

I swear! It’s as if John Wilkes Booth is now in The Oval… Too much of a coward to fight for the cause; believing in white supremacy, though not willing to lace up his boots or even don a white hood. He’s got a pistol in his pocket though. (And an amendment to back it up – alongside so many regrets, so many insecurities). I wonder what they do in there? In that sweaty pocket of heavy punk-assness… Do they lie next to each other and touch when they think everyone is asleep? The pistol, the regrets, the insecurities… I bet you two silver dollars that the loaded bullets of the latter two shoot further than the aforementioned. Banking on the inattention and lethargy provoked by watching ‘Our American Cousin’ in church-like pews. Clap! For an actor named Booth! After all, the shots sounded so…real!

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Flourishing

The forest then spoke in an archaic language

long forgotten by God’s begotten sons and daughters.

The voice of roaring waters

that seeped so deep into its roots,

from the days of the first seeds sown

and fall of the first fruit.

Its message was that of the days of old,

nights of prehistoric bygones,

movements that have assumed their place

in the current currents,

washing over us in reoccurrence.

I understood as song,

leapt from leafy jaw: Love thine self and all in you will flourish.

 

Ricardo Hanley Jr.