An independent community-focused publisher of art and writing by queer, trans, and gender non-conforming creatives.

nat raum

Rebecca Herrera

Angus Sakkestad

Aden Weisel

fifth wheel press

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cw; death

(...)

My mind still dips its paintbrush into wrong colors– for a moment, 
my mother’s voice sounds like someone else. For a moment, I expect 
ghosts to come out of the room whose vacancy I’ve occupied, 
time to rewind itself back to wh

the graveyard always hungers for more

I have to ask myself if I am willing to be hurt by you

death of abstraction

i’ve been dreaming of the world coming to a close.
my mind becomes violent when left to itself.
the last, the world shaking itself apart,

rupturing its spine in order to cleave what is
no longer necessary.

death of abstraction

Do your nipples think they are in some long-distance relationship?

								Yes, and— 

On Learning to Live with Puppet Strings

7. You must dance when the song comes on. Make your boobs jiggle so hard everyone thinks you’re a mixologist.

Guide to Finding an Infinite Number of Selves

RE-PULSE

a body laid bare and all the secrets
held within. all the truths leak out

a familiar scarring. the body
rebuilds itself, pulls each limb

back in place and re-enters the world
as a fracture. a haze of eyes

unseeing, the change uncared for

RE-PULSE

You Told Me You Killed Her

West Wittering

I turn my head toward sunlight with closed eyes and try to burn the world away,
maybe try to set myself alight too,
hoping the crawling spring will grant me the small mercy of disappearing

before I settle for the calamity of summer.

(...)

staring at the sun (until I see the real you)

"Your world never ends how you think it will."

Cambridge

GSA: queer desire at a small, restrictive high school

Hey, Big Spender: a debaucherous summer of sex, drugs, and yoga (as one does)

two stories: GSA & Hey, Big Spender

When We Are Looking At the Same Moon

Heart Emoji (Pink w/ Sparkles), Heart Emoji (Broken)

i think yr real cool like blue lemonade real pretty like bluebells i'm underwater drowning and still i take time to admire the backlit outline of you [...]

Feature: three works by Zoe Adrien Lapa

When They Foretold Our Futures

"We sit on a splintered teak bench,

shaded in a cloister of soft white petals"

'menil park (kissing a girl)'

 -.-. --- -. ...- .. -. -.-. .     -- .     ..     .-- .. .-.. .-..

I was boiling with color and ancient the day I knew life—
Supernovas don’t last long.

Telegraph to a Constellation

Poem published digitally. After Joy Harjo. Not quite sure what this poem is about, but it's one of my favorites.

She Knew The Moon

Catching Light

Ten Years of Hell

against impossible odds

fait accompli

VII-2. [Vodka Mutini]

mermaid bible

how to construct a breakup poem

Stormsong

i tried to cup you in my hands but could only watch you leak through

In Monstro

An acrid puff of smoke I inhaled deep in my lungs for some semblance of feeling. In essence, a comfort I held dear.

You Showed Me All Your Colors

Challenging the idea that a fast writer = a good writer. Why I enjoy slow drafting and the lessons I've learned from it.

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