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Michael Grasso

  • Daily Horoscope #758

    Daily Horoscope #758

    Nov 16, 2025

    —

    by

    Michael Grasso
    in Uncategorized

    Your fate is sealed, as the planets wrote your story by the stars and universes that predate you. So, go on. Enjoy the feast of your destiny. Let the winds guide you home.    Listen, for the following will detail your horoscope on the day you read this.    Aquarius (January 20th – February 18th) …

  • The Old Fires Keep Burning

    The Old Fires Keep Burning

    Nov 16, 2025

    —

    by

    Lola Horowitz
    in Uncategorized

  • The Soiled Soles of Her Shoes

    The Soiled Soles of Her Shoes

    Nov 16, 2025

    —

    by

    Bella Capezio
    in Essays

    “When I read about her suffering, I was delighted by her decay. I was thrilled by her unfolding; I liked pulling at her seams and watching her unravel. I confess. I liked watching her rot away.”

  • What’s the Skinny on Brandy HELLville?

    What’s the Skinny on Brandy HELLville?

    Nov 16, 2025

    —

    by

    Photography by Frankie Solinsky Duryea and Alex Norbrook
    in Photography

    Ever heard of the four horsemen of the apocalypse? Well Brandy Melville in Princeton’s historic Palmer Square has just been visited by something even stranger. A mysterious, pope-like figure appeared to float in the popular teen clothing store. When approached for comment, he claimed to be a reincarnation of Asahara Shoko of the Aum Shinrikyo…

  • Shit in my blood

    Shit in my blood

    Nov 8, 2025

    —

    by

    Wendy Wang
    in Poetry

    i was thinking about what’s in my blood and it’s mostly genetic stuff but also a wasteland if you’ve read T.S. Eliot so if you’re curious here’s not all just some of the shit in my blood:    55% plasma, mostly water carrying salt & proteins, tranquil medium that shapes time and space, the osmotic…

  • Passenger Announcement in Progress

    Passenger Announcement in Progress

    Nov 8, 2025

    —

    by

    Momo Sonoda
    in Poetry

    A soft chime. The PA system exhales with a crackle before speaking.  Good evening, passengers, and  welcome aboard Flight QTR955.  Please ensure your seatbelt is securely fastened.  Stow all carry-on  memories beneath the seat  or within overhead compartments.  Pack lightly — heavy luggage may slow ascent.  As we prepare for takeoff, take one last look…

  • Moon, where are you?

    Moon, where are you?

    Nov 8, 2025

    —

    by

    Livia Shneider
    in Essays

    On my birthday there was supposed to be a full moon and I’m sure there was under the clouds but I got out of bed to see it and couldn’t find it. I looked up on google where the moon was supposed to be (southwest) and looked there but all I saw were gray murky…

  • Jazz

    Jazz

    Nov 8, 2025

    —

    by

    Mira Schubert
    in Poetry

    We are in assembly. Voices intermingle with deep jazz that drips from speakers stationed all around the house. Something beneath my sternum vibrates silently. The lights are colder than I know you’d prefer.  But I’ve got candles  at home,  with molten wax that oozes down far beyond  the little sphere of gleaming honeycomb.   We…

  • Letter to my cat (human nature)

    Letter to my cat (human nature)

    Nov 8, 2025

    —

    by

    Sasha Rotko
    in Essays

    A Nass writer wonders: how to live, how to be, and how to eat?

  • Frog World

    Frog World

    Nov 8, 2025

    —

    by

    Matthew Picoult
    in Fiction

    “Now, imagine you are a frog and you know that all your frog flesh and frog blood is shared with your frog brothers. What kind of frog would you be?”

  • Three Years in the Shadow of Gaza

    Three Years in the Shadow of Gaza

    Nov 8, 2025

    —

    by

    Samuel Kennedy
    in Second Look

    The Maher family escaped death, but what does it mean to rebuild what they’ve lost?

  • Epilogue

    Epilogue

    Nov 8, 2025

    —

    by

    Sofia Cipriano
    in Poetry

    In August, you were real and unreal.  Lying on the floor in sticky heat, I wrote lines to you in my head, Crossed them out.   As summer slipped I sensed the shape of you in fever dreams. I told my friends it’s like living with a ghost.    Counting the days until October, When…

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