CURRENT ISSUE - 1.3
WRITE THE WORLD WEBSITE
by MAY ZHENG (United States)
Air sticks to my skin,
like honey. mosquitos circle my ankles and wrists
GROCERY LIST OF ESSENTIALS
by MARGHERITA MORO (Italy)
The grass stings my thighs and whispers at me to move my legs so that it may look upon the stars
by ELLA GREEN (New Zealand)
I try to think of death as an ocean; uncharted and unknown, but vast.
SMALL FAREWELL IN THE HISTORY OF SUMMERS
by TING LIN (China)
I look at you for decades and your words
melt in this subtropical heat.
RETURN TO MY TREES
by ELEANOR LEWIS (Wales)
i have come back
to the village i swore i would never see again
CLOTHES DONATION? SORRY, BUT IT'S NOT GOING TO WORK ANYMORE
by JUNFANG ZHANG (Singapore)
Perpetually sitting in a corner of my room is a large carrier bag filled with cast-off clothes.
OP-ED: TO COMBAT CLIMATE CHANGE, AMERICA MUST CHANGE HOW IT PLANS DEVELOPMENT
by WILLIAM DASHE (United States)
Suburban living is a great, untested experiment. While this style of living . . .
by ELIZABETH BUNTIN (United States)
There is a certain inscrutability in the mercurial ebb and flow of life in the woods, an unassuming cadence that settles just beyond my naive circumspection. The dry sweep of the wind’s touch is fond and insidious in turns . . .
by MAI MCGAW (United States)
On a frosty October morning, I walk to a field
And lie flat on my back in the dewy grass.