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“I see your heart rotting there, right there, on the outside of your skin.” - Teo Mungaray


fiction | joel mak | they will come for us

Five minutes of trekking separated the two worlds. In one, the comforts that lay behind walls and a flyscreen like air-conditioning, cable television, and a fully-stocked fridge. Upstairs, Myra locking herself in a poorly-lit room, struggling to stay awake to write, popping Adderall like chocolate chips. For Timmy and I, a clearing and then the lake. Water striders, singing birds, the far off sounds of hunters’ efforts.

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Working through my own traumas – enacted by family, lovers, and society at large – has informed much of the work in my first manuscript. These poems explore the feeling of pursuit and terror that ruled much of my life. In an effort to take ownership of these feelings, and to escape the constant distress of silence, I turned to poetry.

poetry | sara fitzpatrick comito | florida’s new space program

A neighbor spies

me, most of his belongings

on the lawn. Well, how

would I know? Except

that there’s nothing

for him to make room for.

film | gabriel ricard | captain canada’s movie rodeo

“ … do we really need all of these services existing, pumping out thousands of hours of content that most people will never get around to seeing, since we seemingly can’t fucking stop watching Friends or Final Destination? Are we really going to have an economy dependent upon an industry that can’t possibly sustain itself?”



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