A country that would,

Given an illusion of a

chance,

Lock away those who

Rules are rules are rules they say.

So dress nice, smile pretty, scrub your mouth

out with coarse soap.

There are so many better words you could say.

Be a super hero,

better yet a

vigilante,

stand for

freedom

and for Justice.

We can change

Our fucked up

country!

And we better.

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when it when it

becomes becomes

too stressful, too stressful,

or too boring or too boring

for me to for me to

handle handle 8

10

All us writers out there,

we’re all just part of this massive

in a blanket

of darkness.

A good book is

comforting, like

an old friend.

I use writing and

reading as a way to

escape my reality

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solar system,

of insight,

just pinpoints of

light,

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The purple

bruise on

my heart

only shows

when I think

I know a nest of

thoughts is buried

somewhere in

your stitched,

congested head;

you couldn’t

splutter speech or

roll in laughter

if you haven’t got

a brain.

I keep wishing I knew

how else to speak to

the sleeping.

I dare you to say something,

with that wizardly brain of yours.

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I want the I want the

message that I message that I

have for this have for this

world to be world to be

seen by seen by

millions of millions of

innocent eyes. innocent eyes.

My job is to create a message that our

world needs to hear, to make it a

better place.

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At a crucial moment in our planet's history, the national

conversation on climate change has gone silent. We need to resume discussion

before it's too late. Hear the fall before the impact,

prevent it or make it louder. Because right now, we're a "fix-it" culture, a fix-it-late

culture. And that's just bullshit. 2

4

My companion cowers in his clay pot

Great pine’s branches

scratch against the window grate

and we both itch for freedom.

Our room grows stale in the light

The The

pool pool

momentarily momentarily

condensescondenses,,

the the

liquid liquid

splintering splintering

into into

wood.wood. 3

The young ones usually are because of

their continued, stronger connection to

the hostiles. As we age, the connection

fades. That day, I was the woman every-

one looked at for answers.

I was also the first one through the

door.

You could smell it before you saw it: the

metallic stench of drying blood sitting

on your tongue like a tangible weight.

The clouds look like seashells and The clouds look like seashells and

flowing hair and I can taste the sea flowing hair and I can taste the sea

on my lips and the salt on my teeth. on my lips and the salt on my teeth.

I hear the seagulls up above, white I hear the seagulls up above, white

like floating bags as they circle in like floating bags as they circle in

the sky, loud and demanding as the sky, loud and demanding as

they flood past. I taste you here; do they flood past. I taste you here; do

you taste me?you taste me?

an orange from the triggered

pressure of your own body?

“I think I’m drawing a

dandelion.”

“A dandelion? How nice!”

“Daddy says they’re

weeds.”

“Just because they’re

weeds, doesn’t make them

bad. Besides, they grant

wishes.”

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I want a collaborative I want a collaborative

experience! I want to sit down experience! I want to sit down

with my animal friends and with my animal friends and

create something beautifulcreate something beautiful——

something that's not mine or something that's not mine or

theirs but OURS!theirs but OURS!

She tried not to think about it when she went about her day;

It would be so lovely to forget

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Jenn the feminist kitty Jenn the feminist kitty says...says... As a female writer, I've been face to

face with people who assume I can't

write anything interesting because I'm a

woman. I've had to deal seriously with

the thought of disguising my gender via

a pen name if I ever want to get

published. As a female reader I've also

been face to face with the messages that

are being sent to women through

popular fiction by female authors, and

all too often, these are messages that

perpetuate outdated and dangerous

gender roles. I'm in publishing because

I want to change that, and hope to get

the chance to emphasize this with

collage comics.

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Calvin thought back to

the last time his cousin

had come over for the

weekend.

Juliana had been Captain

Jewel the Pirate Queen

while he had been

Scalawag Cal: First Mate

Extraordinaire.

They had sailed around the living room in their refrigerator box

boat, the SS Clayton, and they had defeated their nemesis Cap-

tain Pug-Face multiple times.

Calvin’s pug Boris was easily defeated

by belly rubs and beef treats.

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