In an unjust world, there’s a fine line between anger and madness. S/tick Magazine invites you to channel rage into righteous art and writing for its next issue, “Angry/Mad.” Tired of the grotesque facades of rich men in power? White politicians cavorting in blackface? Sexual predators who insist their violations were consensual? Rhetoric on reconciliation without genuine action? People who look at wildfires, rising water, disastrous storms, melting ice caps and deny there’s anything amiss? Submit, but do not be submissive!
Deadline: March 31, 2020
This Throwback Thursday brought to you by Freesia McKee
S/tick, Issue 1.4
this guy brought a poem
to our workshop
about being a man.
at the table
after the workshop,
one guy told me
to write a poem
that included the word
he knows i write
poems about women.
what else is there
do you get asked
what it feels like
to be a symbol
because to me,
you have become
i know how included i can feel
if i quote you.
is that my chair
to their table–
that is a poem
that will never be
This Throwback Thursday brought to you by Amber Hollinger
S/tick, Issue 1.2
Editor’s Note: Watch the don’t die press blog for some oldies but goodies from an earlier era of S/tick!
by Megan Harris
My mother is bone white and black
daughter born from cocaine breath
came out on the cusp of winter.
A wispy gasp and darkened heart
skin is paper stretched over bone
white sheet, dark pen, dark red.
Mother warns daughter to not love death
to not long to feel his dark eyes
fall upon her breasts.
Daughter is of winter locking,
a chest begging to be opened to light,
fill the lungs with dirt and breathe life.
Mother is bone white and black,
her burning head stares down
Daughter turns away again – frozen.