Shoots and Vines

looking for you were looking for me and so was i but all we saw were memories and things¨ somebody else said, probably lying, reflecting the...

Sleepless whilst wind howls outside window first instances of loneliness reach even my womb; blood shreds from cervix preparing my tomb. May...

Thank you to all the writers, photographers, artists, and readers who have made this zine a success. In a little over a month, we've alr...

I am a schizophrenic writer, a haphazard photographer, an obsequious malcontent—tripping and sprinting and moshing to my own multi-limbed dr...

Tin Roof We hear him skulking in the backyard. He lingers over the snapped branch, and I imagine his eyes brittling like ice. We don't k...

Christopher Woods has published a prose collection, UNDER A RIVERBED SKY, and a collection of stage monologues for actors, HEART SPEAK. His ...

someone's dream or obligation just died before the eyes of commuters blazing car belches cotton explosions of gray smoke into the air a ...