Carolyn Guinzio

Carolyn Guinzio‘s most recent collections are How Much Of What Falls Will Be Left When It Gets To The Ground? (Tolsun, 2018) and Ozark Crows (Spuyten-Duyvil, 2018). “At Opening” is a part of a project that received a 2019 Artists 360 Work-In-Progress Award. She lives in Fayetteville, AR and her website is

Brooke Larson

from Paper Axe

Brooke Larson is a writer, collagist, and sometimes wilderness guide. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Columbia University, and is finishing a PhD in English at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette. A book of her essays, “Pleasing Tree,” is available from Arc Pair Press, and an artist book of her poem-plays, “Origami Drama,” is forthcoming through Quarterly West.

John Morgan

“Take the Witches’ Path out” is a kind of memento mori infused poem, that shares coincidental geometries and spatialisation – and its own dark obsessions (chromatically subverted) – with the third painting in Damian Hirst’s triptych “The Meek Shall Inherit the Earth” (2008), from his No Love Lost: Blue Paintings collection (2009). Hirst’s painting depicts a human skull and the skeleton of what appears to be a shark’s open jaws. Faint angular lines trace desire paths that draw the viewers’ gaze, suggesting pathways through which the swimmer may pass, to escape or to capture – all the while knowing that any such liberty is only fleeting.

“Take the Witches’ Path out” in itself is based on a three card tarot reading, in situ, to ascertain the fortunes of two prisoners who escaped from San Marino’s jail in August 2018. Its eccentric layout starts in the middle: the Centro Storico, San Marino’s old mountain-top city centre and location of its jail. The prison is a small collection of cells in a wing of the Capuchin Monastery, just outside the city walls. We witnessed the roadblocks, dawn paraglider and helicopter reconnaissance missions and the barking of police dogs through the night in their efforts to stop the prisoners crossing into Italy. Through scant news reports online we found out that these were the only two prisoners currently held in the jail.

The questions and tarot readings are set in Aubrey and the verse text is set in Sans Forgetica, a new Creative Commons font developed by RMIT in Australia, which has proved to aid memory when reading, through the now-you-see-it-now-you-don’t spaces placed in the characters. The font was chosen for “Take the Witches’ Path out” to follow the movements of the seemingly invisible prisoners and our own recurrent sightings of the same guards along Passo delle Streghe, the forested, cliff-top “Witches’ Path” between two of the three towers of central San Marino. Darker, more esoteric and mythopoeic practices are also referred to from The Dictionary of the Khazars (1989) by Milorad Pavić. All colours are extracted from photographs taken between the towers and the colours of the card readings are “quoted” from the ‘La Corte dei Tarocchi’ by Anna Maria D’Onofrio.

D’Onofrio, Anna Maria, ‘La Corte dei Tarocchi’ [Tarot cards] (Milano: Il Meneghello, 1999)
Hirst, Damien, No Love Lost: Blue Paintings (London: Other Criteria, 2009)
Hirst, Damien, ‘The Meek Shall Inherit the Earth’ [Oil on canvas] At: (, 2008)
Pavić, Milorad, The Dictionary of the Khazars (New York: Vintage International, 1989)
Sans Forgetica is available under Creative Commons CCBYNC licence from

John Morgan’s poems offer a visual engagement with real, imagined or received experience of landscape, place, identity and myth. His writing often responds in situ to the works of other writers and artists, as well as to the land itself and how it receives and ‘writes’ the identity of the person moving through it. His poems have appeared in a glimpse of, The Learned Pig and Reliquiae, but are mostly published on his own website, Visual

Joshua Smith

Work by Joshua Smith can be found in Angry Old Man Magazine, The Gravity of the Thing, and the Grolier Poetry Bookshop.

Corinne A. Schneider

After Spider Dance

La Tarantella is a southern Italian ecstatic folk dance, traditionally performed by lower class women, midwives, eccentrics and others at the margins. Groups of couples now perform it at weddings.

I started seeing scratches under women’s eyes
          Some of the women
          tired from too much seeing
          scratches & their absence of inner thigh
Spider curled in a white rose
Animal souls          cut flowers          a raindrop
a buzzing          Why don’t you
just break my neck already?

Tiger lily          How many calories?    
Maybe twenty
gilding the lily          Brushing my hair is
a mutilation       Well, of course you engender
sexual obsession in others,
your many lovers
       That’s why you
could never cohabitate, you’d run out
of little outfits

Mosquitos finally come a callin’ this summer  
Baby bok choy bolting
          up the center          Fuck those white sheets          police helicopter
          star of the sea
You can get into a rhythm
Eyes on everything
Season of lightness
Taking your dreams away

After Spider Dance, II

Are you
a weaver like me?
Maybe you could heal me       Feed me nuts & berries
lichen tincture
essential medicine
so my bones grow  
I can tie
my bones together       I know how
to mate fully without bearing children
copious and empty
Smile at me at la clinica
I’m drunk enough now
to tell you about Rochelle
my across-the-street 2nd grade neighbor
whose mother was always away
Rochelle taught me how to masturbate
in the basement by straddling inflatable pool toys
Her mother’s face in the gold hand mirror
in the dark peach bedroom
looking away  
This is the thing
about not ever needing anyone  
all your secrets are your own
Watch them
bead up like dew

Corinne A. Schneider is a working poet from the Great Lakes / Rust Belt of the US. She writes poems, essays and other ephemera from the House of Sex, Death & Taxes. Her work has recently appeared in Bone Bouquet, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, Queen Mob’s Tea House, Coldfront Mag, and So to Speak.  She lives in Washington, DC with her cats and partner and writes about international solar energy markets for a living.  

Vassiliea Stylianidou . Βασιλεία Στυλιανίδου

Vassiliea Stylianidou the flying body of a butterfly in a battlefield EN

Βασιλεία Στυλιανίδου the flying body of a butterfly in a battlefield GK

Vassiliea Stylianidou studied Literature and Linguistics at the University of Ioannina (GR) and Visual Arts (B.F.A., M.F.A.) at the University of the Arts Berlin (UdK Berlin). She works as a video and installation artist, using in her works related artistic media such as text, sound/music and performance. Her artistic process involves a constant renegotiation of public and private history, as well as public and private spaces. Her work deal with the limits inherent in systems of order and discipline such as architecture, body, power, family, gender and language. Especially in relation to language, she is interested in experimental ways of using it which challenge and subvert its everyday use in an attempt to suggest new paradigms for knowledge and experience. Her work has been exhibited at nGbK, Berlin; SMU Berlin, Haus der Kulturen der Welt, Berlin; Haus am Kleistpark, Berlin; quartier21/MuseumsQuartier, Vienna; Fotohof, Salzburg; VCA Margaret Lawrence Gallery, Melbourne; C.R.A.C, Sète (F); KUNSTHALLE ATHENA, Athens; Onassis Cultural Center, Athens; Macedonian Museum of Contemporary Art, Thessaloniki; The National Museum for Contemporary Art, Athens; State Museum of Contemporary Art, Thessaloniki; Art in General, NYC. She has also participated in the Prague Biennale and in the parallel programme of the Athens and Thessaloniki Biennials. She is member of the feminist queer project Aphrodite.
In 2011 she founded the collaborative project STUDIOvisits Berlin.
She lives and works in Berlin and Athens.


H Βασιλεία Στυλιανίδου γεννήθηκε στη Θεσσαλονίκη, Είναι εικαστικός με βάση το Βερολίνο και την Αθήνα. Σπούδασε λογοτεχνία και Γλωσσολογία στην Φιλοσοφική Σχολή των Ιωαννίνων και εικαστικές τέχνες (ΒFΑ, ΜFΑ) στο University of the Arts Berlin (UdK Berlin). Εργάζεται ως εικαστικός βίντεο και εγκαταστάσεων, χρησιμοποιώντας στα έργα της συναφή καλλιτεχνικά μέσα, όπως κείμενο, ήχο / μουσική και περφόρμανς.
Τα έργα της διαχειρίζονται τα όρια που ενυπάρχουν στα συστήματα τάξης και πειθαρχίας όπως η αρχιτεκτονική, το σώμα, η εξουσία, η οικογένεια, το φύλο και η γλώσσα.
Ειδικά σε σχέση με τη γλώσσα, ερευνά (ποιητικές) μεθόδους οι οποίες αποσταθεροποιούν την καθημερινή χρήση της, προτείνοντας νέα παραδείγματα γνώσης και εμπειρίας.
Έχει παρουσιάσει τη δουλειά της σε πολλές εκθέσεις στην Ελλάδα και το εξωτερικό εκ των οποίων οι σημαντικότερες είναι στο Moυσείο Σύγχρονης Τέχνης Κρήτης στο Ρέθυμνο, Schwules Museum (SMU) στο Βερολίνο (2018), Διπλάρειο Σχολή σε διογράνωση της Στέγης Γραμμάτων και Τεχνών στην Αθήνα (2017), ΑΣΚΤ, Σχολή Καλών Τεχνών της Αθήνας (2016), Πολιτιστικό Κέντρο Σ. Νιάρχος στην Αθήνα (2015), nGbK-Νeue Gesellschaft für Bildende Kunst στο Βερολίνο (2014), Haus am Kleistpark στο Βερολίνο (2013), Haus der Kulturen der Welt στο Βερολίνο (2012), quartier21/MuseumsQuartier στη Βιέννη (2012), VCA Margaret Lawrence Gallery στην Μελβούρνη (2011), KUNSTHALLE ATHENA στην Αθήνα (2011), C.R.A.C στο Σέτ της Γιαλλίας (2010), Μακεδονικό Μουσείο Σύγχρονης Τέχνης στην Θεσσαλονίκη (2009), Εθνικό Μουσείο Σύγχρονης Τέχνης στην Αθήνα (2008), A. Moncio House Museum, Palanga στην Λιθουανία (2007) και πολλές άλλες.
Έλαβε μέρος στην 1η Μπιενάλε Σύγχρονης Τέχνης στην Πράγα (2003) και στα παράλληλα προγράμματα της Μπιενάλε της Αθήνας (2007) και Θεσσαλονίκης (2010).
Είναι μέλος της επιμελητικής ομάδας του queer feminist project Aphrodite. Το 2011 ίδρυσε το ανεξάρτητο συνεργατικό πρότζεκτ STUDIOvisits Berlin με το οποίο έχει πραγματοποιήσει πολλά εγχειρήματα στην Αθήνα και το Βερολίνο.

Andrew Taylor

The 280s

Explain to Andrew the process it’s not as grey as expected it could almost be summer aside from the temperature (a clear 30 degrees cooler than August) very light blue 283 C 536 C pale blue black 3 C in rear shadow facing the field remnants of rain on the worn tarmacked lane 

Paint the world in grey 2359 XGC chocolate egg 143 C winter solstice 7543 XGC sometimes things don’t match busy streets 2756 C & foraging mistletoe 7748 XGC bright Central European Standard Time & colourless Greenwich Mean Time Autoroutes and motorways respective service areas

Delivery not traditional physical printed at 88 sites throughout the world and sold in more than 160 countries and territories post-rain lane quiet comfort sound sporadic chatter free roam foliage gatherer Black 6 C 7751 C 7479 CP 416 CP 7768 XGC masthead centred two-day edition

Let Poems be themselves the use of noise the use of words the point of pencil the point of knifes the use of colour the use of paper the point of wood the point of axe the use of silence the use of electricity the point of fuel the point of poems the use of lists the use of sound

Saumur cormorant skims Loire train crosses furthest bridge wind chill low blue paint livraisons RF place de la Bilange la mie Caline ouvert du lundi au dimanche de 05h a 20h cold of Square Guinness Pub cobweb neon flow gilets jaunes roundabout fires stop aux tax RDV keep cold at bay


Andrew Taylor has published two collections with Shearsman and pamphlets with Red Ceilings, Leafe, and Oystercatcher, amongst others. He has collaborated with visual artists such as Sophie Herxheimer and Edward Chell. A poetic collaboration with Charlie Baylis, at first it felt like flying is due from Indigo Dreams in January 2019. He edits M58, a blogzine of other poetries.

yarrow yes woods

yarrow yes woods from Death and

yarrow yes woods is a maid and copywriter in Chicago. Some of her is available soon or now at BOAAT, DREGINALD, The Wanderer, Columbia Poetry Review, Palimpsest, The New Territory, and DIAGRAM.

The 2 issue | intro

Double, doubly, doubled, two of which,
dual, twice, bilingual,
two paragraphs, two columns, two collaborators,
Schylla’s mantissa’s glowed motes
a diptych, two sources,
two gestures, both, dual, twice,
two phantasies,
I want a piece of you.
Yes, I really do.

the self and the environment,
I cross the bridge but my body hasn’t caught up
two gestures, both, dual, twice
two selves and two relatives,
The fragmented self’s fragmentations exhaustively examined.
two notebooks, two lovers,

Many thanks to Fatma Al Ali, Logan Benedict, Catherine Chen, Maria Damon and Alan Sondheim, Mike Foldes, Maria Georgoula, Ian Whitfield, Diana Manesi, Sara Matson, Kat Meads, Lindsay Parkhowell, Lou Sarabadzic, Zoe Sklepa,Tom Snarsky, and Adam Strauss for their brilliant works.

Dimitra Ioannou

Fatma Al Ali

MOVE; now

Fatma Al Ali 1

Fatma Al Ali 2

Fatma Al Ali 3

Fatma Al Ali 4

Fatma Al Ali 5

‪’MOVE; now’ is a series of photographs that investigates the relation between the self and the environment, often times you find yourself surrounded by an environment that is hindering your growth and forcing you to be in a position that you know if you stay any longer you will lose the essence of yourself, and it makes you decay with the loss of movement. ironically, in this series of photographs the sculptural object is placed in water that is a substance considered to be the source of life and growth. what might be perceived by others as growth inducing can also be a reason to drown and suffocate. ‬

Fatma Al Ali (b.1994) received her bachelors degree in Fine Arts from the university of Sharjah, Sharjah, United Arab Emirates, 2018. her work often questions ideas of materiality of an object, Contradictions in terms of fragility and delicacy. She has joined multiple group exhibitions both locally and internationally.

Logan Benedict

Sometimes the low is the high

2 | Logan Benedict | sometimes the low is the high (1)

Water in the engine

2 | Logan Benedict | Water in the engine

Reactive wilderness

2 | Logan Benedict | Reactive wilderness

Logan Benedict was born in Newark, Delaware in 1997. He will be receiving his Associate’s Degree in Communications from Delaware Technical Community College in 2018. Benedict’s work has been exhibited at the Milton Theater in Milton, Delaware, the Vancouver Arts & Leisure in Vancouver, British Columbia, as well as three shows at the Gibby Center in Middletown, Delaware. His work has been featured in publications such as Catapult Magazine and in The Wire Newspaper. In 2016, Benedict published his first book in partnership with through CreateSpace, titled Search + Destroy. His second book, fagart, was a collection of poems and portraits with themes of queer fragility. He recently released his third book, Sour Milk Curds, in March. Benedict currently works and resides in Townsend, Delaware.

Catherine Chen

Such Beautiful Machines

Catherine Chen is a poet and performer. Their work has appeared or is forthcoming in Slate, Hobart, Entropy, Mask Magazine, Asian American Writers’ Workshop, Tagvverk, and Nat. Brut. Their chapbook “Manifesto, or: Hysteria” (Big Lucks) will be published in June 2019.

Maria Damon, Alan Sondheim

adnoun from left field / the field left behind

Thad nun Tapestries at the far end of the monastery wall
The brutal murk sat, portend against the statuary’s fall
I think of Stalin shattered, Hitler’s fall
You should’ve caught his legless sprawl
Chad ad noun: “`meek’ in `blessed are the meek’ is an ad-noun” –oh, I get it! I think.
And where he fell, one might forever seek, empyrean to sink
Along with Hitler’s call, unanswered, no one now, on whatever brink –
A terza rima ruined in a blink! and boy does it stink!
Within the burk of time, we’re all gone in a wink,
Please save us like from the slime, Stephen Hawking,
remember there’s no time sublime, let’s all keep talking!
“the cursed obsequious and that their folly” like, when an adjective is nominalized!
and then resurge the riverrun ‘s elsewhere, the world is cauterized
firewise with redundant undulations, mark my wild surmise!
ad-noun: “The shined of equal 3 paired your vision” impair my vision, three-person’d goad! what are you waiting for?
and shattered, vision’s lost, four killers down. The dank moat
reflecting only monstrous, bulbous, watery bloat
while I and billions like me missed the boat,
baiting, and then there’s more – we with love over hatred racing much have
joined embracing closed friends’ derision” oh may you be ever saved from such.
(Which burns against revision’s ism, raved, and then there’s touch.)
She left the house in pink stilettos and a fuschia clutch.
A date with Stephen Hawking, going dutch.
Nightshaded night’s sweet realms murk now left aubergine yam”
alas, bright Hades sight! meet helms lurk, wow! bereft young Ondine’s ram’s
tusk! Suck’d down the intertext’s gory hole, madame!
Both coddles seethed; she, left in the warren
husk-clothed bodies breathed were bereft of the barren
results of the Warren Commission, history’s repeating by and by,
and bees pervading, invading a starry indoor dome-sky!
Hurtle, bled mates cursed in song on beach! Bother Scylla’s mantissa’s glowed motes,
mortal led hates pursued among each other’s ribald fantasies and low notes”
And here again, the bloated body floats…
Among the plasticined debris, endangered stoats –
A hounded sitter’s word-horde gathered! A crow’s beak? Bother, brother of glowed girl!
wounded fitter’s sword’s swart-slaughtered war’s bleak mother and mother-of-pearl”
A sister’s as good as twelve four-eyed hounds with jaded collars all aswirl!
Was Speer really good or evil damned, a murderous churl?
“Sharp heightened, fathers descend in nacreous smoke-ringed shimmer”
With harps sighted, bothered! Portend in cresote this unhinged glimmer!
With blind wing’d harpies, descend on the smoky ones, asleep in their timor.
East or west, the world is burning, friends,
“heist daughters makes amends” thorn adnoun” and with a little cuddle thrown in
Most daughters make amends, shorn and grown, a bit muddled, like brutal kin::
and who would fault a rhyme that ends in fathers’ sin?
with too much blood and gristle, the planet’s thistle crashed within?
adnoun: mortal-led sitter’s “halo “th east bereft”> barefoot and bereft, but wearing a beret
              swearing and swimming today; they pray for prey empyrian, sink
bitter’s other”> greater than sour, than savory, than dour
as if flour made a difference with pi? three point one point four point carp!
No pi for prisoners, round and round we go, waiting for the next harmonious blow –
And Please defer the lyric as you would defend the harp!
Oh Oedipus, to whom else can we now turn? within your narrative trainwreck we, all destitution, burn!
“Tharp “theist mother”> Th’Adnoun descend”> what part of speech are you?
armour amends”> amour demands paramours’ indecent descents, mortar’d,
hurtled among the Alpine mountains where rulers go to pout, find themselves out,
exhausted, the mad clown calls: How to live among the ruins
im/mortal’d > “th’Alpinic “th’eastern th’ology juices itself out
exhausted, the ad-noun falls
into itself
into itself
into itself

the dark tower hums
the dark tower comes
the text ends here, we’re dead, nothing comes to mind

Maria Damon is Professor of Humanities and Media Studies at Pratt Institute. She has written extensively on modern and contemporary poetry and poetics, and is currently exploring the interstices of text and textile.

Alan Sondheim is a city-based new media artist, musician, writer, and performer concerned with issues of virtuality, and the stake that the real world has in the virtual. He has worked with his partner Azure Carter among others. Sondheim is interested in examining the grounds of the virtual and how the body is inhabited. He performs in virtual, real, and
cross-over worlds; his virtual work is known for its highly complex and mobile architectures. He has used altered motion-capture technology extensively for examining and creating new lexicons of behavior. His writing stems out of codework, a problematic style in which code substrates and surface content interfere with each other – in which, in other words, the textual body and body of text are deeply entangled. His current music is based on the impossibility of time reversal, on fast improvisation, and anti-gestural approaches to playing.

Mike Foldes


Counting, counting, always counting.

12 steps down to the cool cellar

Almost without thinking, realizing

Only at the end ten, eleven, twelve.

How many steps from the kitchen sink

To the kitchen door, from the kitchen door

To the curb where the car sits parked,

Ready and waiting to go, go, go,

A tenth of a mile at a clip, mile

After mile, all 297,000, and then some.

A mathematical world populated

With geometric forms, odd shapes

As if generated at random, but

Logical as logical is said to be.

We moveable icons pass among

One another, relatively speaking

Without mishap; is it because

We are clusters of energy

Of alternate polarities designed

To steer clear of foreign objects?

Which is the true form, “forest

Or field”? To whom do we owe

This debt of gratitude, this

Formulation that carries us

From day to day, here to there,

Step by step, cautiously seeking

To discover what’s next, even

While it’s before our own eyes?
What fractal equation forces us together,

Woman and man, woman and woman,

Man and man? What fractal

Tears us apart, arm, leg, head,

In matters of war. And peace?

Does each generation ponder

On its pathway to the grave

Whether changing a zero to one

Or one to zero, two to three

Or ten to ten thousand, whether

The numbers add up to anything

More than an accumulation

Of laughter or sorrow? Do we

Manage our futures, or does

Despair manage us? What

Is the geometry of innocence?

How many or few the steps

We take to understanding?

The nebulous, the certain,

Cautious and caring, a triangle

Or parallelogram, particles

That exist, or only appear to exist

Because we cannot see or feel

Or detect them, but know their presence

By established theories of influence,

By shadows cast in moonlight

By the casual way we tie our shoes,

the way we count our blessings

cast our nets, spin our webs.

A piece of you

I want a piece of you.

Yes, I really do.

Just a small part,

A corner of your palette

Dust from the floor

Beneath the table

Where you polish

The incandescent metals

Of your ancient trade.

I want a piece of you

To hang on the wall,

Place on a glass shelf

In a curio cabinet

Where the curious

Will gather to look

And see what

We’ve been doing

All these years.

I want a piece of you

I can take to the bank,

That I can dive into

Like a frog into a murky pond,

That I can caress, kiss

And save as a token

Of our mutual respect,

Being that we came

Such a long way to get here

And the crossing

Was so quick.

Ask me for a poem, then,

In exchange for the look,

And a taste of magnesium

On steel on my tongue,

A flavor not unlike that

I imagine you have on yours

At the end of days.

Magically it will appear –

Calibrated lines

Rising and falling

On the skin of my back.

Mike Foldes is a sales engineer specializing in medical displays. A graduate of The Ohio State University in anthropology, he has edited and published magazines, poetry anthologies, chapbooks, alternate newspapers, technical publications, and was a newspaper editor and columnist. He is founder of the online magazine Ragazine.CC, author of Sleeping Dogs: A true story of the Lindbergh baby kidnapping …” and Sandy: Chronicles of a Superstorm, a volume of poetry and images in collaboration with artist Christie Devereaux. His articles, editorials, poems and stories have appeared in translation into Romanian, Hungarian, French and Spanish. e-mail: