Peter Burzynski is a fourth-year PhD student in Creative Writing-Poetry at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. He holds a B.A. from the University of Wisconsin-Madison, a M.F.A. in Poetry from The New School University, and a M.A. in Polish Literature from Columbia University.
In between his studies, he has worked as a chef in New York City and Milwaukee. He is an assistant poetry editor for the cream city review and Graduate Assistant Coordinator for Creative Writing at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming from The Best American Poetry Blog, Thin Air, Prick of the Spindle, Working Stiff, Thrush Poetry Review, Your Impossible Voice, RHINO, and Forklift Ohio, amongst others.
Mónica Gomery is a lover of questions, community, language and song. She is a graduate of Goddard College's BFA in Creative Writing Program and is currently training to become a rabbi and chaplain in Boston. Mónica’s writing has appeared in Cutbank, Hold, Shearsman Magazine, Scythe, Shadowtrain, Word For/Word, Requited Journal, Alice Blue Review, Her Kind, and Bridges Journal. Her chapbook COMA is forthcoming from YesYes Books.
Peter Cole Friedman is a poet, artist, and preschool teacher based in Brooklyn, NY. Recent work has appeared or is forthcoming in Entropy, Familiars Quarterly II, and the Brooklyn Poets Anthology (Brooklyn Arts Press). He co-edits glitterMOB.
Cut cunning tart cherry tart cunning tried cunning cut near the whine and shudder carmine cut ruby grapefruits in the kitchen split the grapefruit down the middle through the peel flesh watch the juice bubble soft skin ruby red cut pink pith cut and with that hand-holding pocket-knife cut no one ever notices the country sweet side carmine lockbox between warmth that current blooming naming each cuneiform slice anew cut the next fruit never come forward about the poppies in the vase.
I’m imagining a future / where we are both younger, / and the edges of the camera / have a blossoming filter / like a Final Fantasy cutscene— / we are in a field of blond grass / and you are running
I’m all of the above. injured. buried. / singing. vacant. home is where the start hid. / home, where the spark bit. home / misspelled as hold me. I’m only just / beginning to tell it. home is where / you held me down.