Size / / /

Share the winethe ibex
leaps from your mouth
to mine, fingers ruminating
on apricot nectar, honeyed
dates. 

The ibex eats, leaves
the first green of raw
almonds. So your mouth,
the kid sauntering the
hillside,

grazes on the fresh
loaf of my thigh.




Alicia Cole is a writer and artist in Huntsville, Alabama. She's an Irish-American, autistic, dyscalculic, 2E, MAD, bisexual, genderfluid, survivor woman (one), who is an alt-spiritual practitioner.  Her poetry has recently appeared in Reckoning, isacoustic*, and NILVX. She's a studio artist at InsideOut Studio at Lowe Mill, a studio for disabled adults, and she attends Merrimack Hall, a performing arts school for the disabled.  She lives with her husband, five animals, and some plants, and loves tea, coffee, and claw machines. Her favorite holiday is Halloween.
Current Issue
4 Nov 2024

“Did you know,” the witch says, “that a witch has no heart of her own?”
Outsiders, Off-worlders {how quickly one carves out a corner of the cosmos, / claims a singular celestial body as [o u r s] in the scope of infinity}
Lunar enby folks across here
Wednesday: The 2024 Ignyte Award for Best Novel Shortlist, Part Two 
Friday: A Place Between Waking and Forgetting by Eugen Bacon 
Issue 28 Oct 2024
Issue 21 Oct 2024
By: KT Bryski
Podcast read by: Devin Martin
Issue 14 Oct 2024
Issue 7 Oct 2024
By: Christopher Blake
Podcast read by: Emmie Christie
Issue 30 Sep 2024
Issue 23 Sep 2024
By: LeeAnn Perry
Art by: nino
Issue 16 Sep 2024
Issue 9 Sep 2024
Issue 2 Sep 2024
Issue 26 Aug 2024
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