How Will I Sound When My Voice Returns? will words gush froth over sand-dry lips and caress the feet of strangers? perhaps, a voice...

Both videos are for a semester course offered at the University of San Diego, ARTV 108 Introduction to Video Art. The first video is the...

Four Years Later The blinds sway back and forth with the glass window half open and the midnight air enters this studio filled with...

Gray sky, empty page I love the way he rocks back & forth like an aspen tree with tilted arms & hair flickering in the light as it dances...

Thick Thighs and Trying Times I bought a pair of high waisted jeans that button and zip— not jeggings. Jeggings were the only pant I...

A Lineage of Cardinal-Red Lips I put on a bold, red lip on a January, Sunday morning, channeling my inner Marilyn Monroe, feeling like I...

The Taboo of Wearing a Black Thong By now, we’ve all gotten to the point where talking about sex is natural. My best friend bought a...

Anushka Bidani is an 18 year old poet & essayist from India. She adores the rain, blue skies, open mic events, the human anatomy, & art...

The Rain You spoke so softly. I couldn't hear you over the rain. What did you say? I was focused on the rain. It sounded so beautiful...

Water Remains You've been gone a long time and yet I'm still picking up your things, hairbrush, comb, hair. Everything you left is...

Dichotomy—your name is womxn Is there anything so unloved as a daughter? Is there anything so loved as a daughter? Morgan Russell...

I sneezed in church and my neighbor said the devil took my soul Can you conceptualize the price of womanhood? Give them your life. They...

Not a Metamorphosis Metaphor Sencha chimes. Try to wake but mostly sleep. Sleep. Too much sleep and too little sleep are both markers of...

Hearts of Palm When I forget what these palms are capable of, I remind myself of how they can make shake play pray reach for the sky...

Barbara Jane Reyes, adjunct professor in Philippine Studies at University of San Francisco, author of Invocation to Daughters (City...

A Place to Rest This felt like a place to rest: a soft pillow for my head to lean against warmth to press into on cold nights. This felt...

Yelling You’re such a little bitch! You know that with your grades you’ll never get into a good school! the yelling the yelling the...

“Well this doesn’t rhyme, instead of...” My mother sends me old pictures of myself, the caption reads ‘memories.’ I open my camera, snap...

The hierophant four of the cards were red and black suits diamonds and hearts and clubs and yes spades I wanted to dig in this tender...

Ghosts Anatole set his pen down. He had expected the baby to quiet once Rosalie went to him, but nothing of the sort happened. After a...