Issue 13 - Third Point Press

by Hannah v warren You don’t have to be told twice. You’ve read the story. Brother & sister trade bones

by chancellor page The storm drove all suicides to the shore to welcome the boat toppling up and over waves,

By ALlie Marini In the cool shade of the mud pit at Gator Joe’s Intercession Junction, two juvenile bull gators

By Avra Margariti Tendrils of smoke, the same color as my coffee dregs, rub against my cheek. I no longer shiver

By Natasha Yglesias “What are we doing?” I ask in the backseat of one of Mother’s cars. Or maybe I

By Corey Farrenkopf Ecotourists gathered to watch the Great New England Clothing Heap scale the Berkshire Mountains. The amorphous mass of

by danielle rose “The idea that the body is a prison-house, to which the soul is condemned for past misdeeds,

By Brianne Allen Everything about her body was a contradiction. Laying down on the medical bed, feeling the paper beneath

By Timothy Boudreau Winter in Growing Zone Four can be challenging, with its bitter cold, terrorizing snow events and inhumanly brief

by danielle P. williams Tano I’ Man Chamorro.[1] But who am I really? I was once described as a half

by evan anders now that god is buried in her golden birdcage we travel glimmering in peppermint dusk with box

by evan palmer When the forest fell and landed between our eyes and every rising column of smoke was a

by Jennifer Vaknine it’s simple: pads of fingers trace wet skin, more rhythm, less semantics, mine are pickled, hers selkie

by hazel byers if you were to ask me how to wake before your alarm clock, or how to chop

By Charles Rafferty The basement door has stopped closing with a click. The house is shifting. Soon our children won’t

by Jiordan Castle At 3am, I watch the episode of Friends where everyone’s late to Thanksgiving dinner. I think about