ISSUE ONE: Trams Yell Yes! | next poem →


Vanessa Couto Johnson

Intentions pave the road, but I clatter within a pothole. The bellybutton connoisseur
scratches a new portal. Remote and screened, your laundry is lent. We borrow enough
tire to go.

Water well enough to buck and does until dawn. Handles echo in my hands.

Plaid is a plain of perpendicular grass. Obtuse geese fan the sky.

The honk hunk between your hands within the metal animal, alloy ally of migration.
Three-hundred-sixty degrees of antlers is too hot. GPS the melting point. Position the
hood while riding in weather that is a constant.

Let t be the option I take as the second given. Clocks populate the apartment and I can
hear them digesting. If your lizard breeds her eggs will have numbers.

Vanessa Couto Johnson recently earned her MFA from Texas State University. Her work has appeared in Hot Metal Bridge, shufPoetry, A cappella Zoo, Liebamour, blossombones, and other places. She has poems forthcoming in Star 82 Review, Sassafras, Eratio, and Dinosaur Bees. She runs, blogs at, and has a BA in both English and philosophy from Rice University.

ISSUE ONE: Trams Yell Yes! | next poem →

ISSUE ONE: Trams Yell Yes!

Craig Kurtz
    Index Denied
    Reinvestment Order

Erin Dorney
    This Is Not A Poem About
       Fast Food


Rose Swartz

Tim Kahl
    Plasma Globe

Alison McCabe
    I Watch Myself Loop

Dan Boehl
   excerpts from whatever
       from @emoemoji

Vanessa Couto Johnson

Valentina Cano
    Planned Remodeling

Ryan Napier
    Seasonal Affective Disorder

Terry Wolverton
    Sizzle and Chew

Gregory Crosby
    Satan's Skull Glows White Hot

Lea Galanter
    When Lost in the Woods

Jake Sheff
    Stasis in Ragtime

Angelica Poversky

Mercedes Lawry
    In Late November, There Are
       Days of False Clemency