N˚2
He was beginning to doubt himself. The ceramics have savored/your tortured ivory. The air was soft and smelled of orange blossoms. She guesses that her baby must be inside the shape that these lines sketch out as they move. In/ these/ words we’re in field/ with together, in/ contingent/ life. The power which resides in him is new in nature like a church with no shadows, and none but he knows what that is which he can do, nor does he know until he has tried and failed.
August 2026
ISSUE N˚2
01Bryony Dawson
FICTION
02Valentine Penrose,
trans.
Mia X. Pérez
POETRY (TRANSLATION)
03Elizabeth Atherton
FICTION
04Aloma Rodriguez
FICTION (TRANSLATION)
05Travis Smith
POETRY
06Serena Solin
POETRY
© PSYCHOPOMP LIT MAG 2024