Postscriptpublication.com Website Review

this poem began in the belly of a fish in the south china sea, which was then caught, fried, and served as a seven-dollar meal, rice included, at barrio fiesta in lucky plaza. this poem began on a yellowing page in an unchecked library book about jose rizal’s noli me tangere. He grew up in a place that never seemed to change. A languid landscape of wood fences, stop signs and abandoned street-hockey sticks. Milton, Ontario has been steadily expanding for years, chewing into the forests and fa*mland that surround it … The commodification of hip-hop thereupon leads to a watering down of its content. As corporations try to capture as much of the market as possible, they ‘tone down’ hip-hop’s radical aspects to make it as palatable for consumers as possible … This digital art series examines my personal chronological issues with my identity … Illustration inspired by the short story The Pond, written by Zoe Jane Patterson for Issue 05. Thou shalt not tolerate the bullsh*t of man Thou shalt bare nipples in response to shame The pink flower mantis always remembers his freckled purple orchid and her petals bu*ter sizzles in the bottom of a nondescript black pan I watch it scorch and send strings of smoke to heaven, At the age of seven, Hala lost her best friend. “We’re soulmates,” Reem said. “Because God tied our spirits together before we were born.” Reem was confident that they shared the angel that had breathed into their mothers… Walking on beige lake-wall focused on each pattern, each grain “Would you believe it if someone told you I was the daughter of Mark Ruffalo?” “Why?” Because there’s a little gi*l in me that died too fast. She burned to ashes and rose into an ad*lt, a guardian for her brother and the family dog. For so long, “dad” was synonymous The boy clings tightly onto his father like a newborn ape: legs around waist, limbs I grew up to the soundtrack of my parents – arguing, my mother screaming intermittently, my father cursing followed by the disgusting