A short play chronicling a trifecta of trauma in a Mexican-American family.Read More
What separates you from your dreams, your loved ones, or even your true self?
A section perspective with two divergent vanishing points, split by a wall, draws attention to two focal points at either side of this wall. These two focal points, the two blue horses surrounded by water, are the avatars for our human expression.Read More
Welcome to the empty space where all your dreams will come true. Welcome to Europe... But, What's Europe? Maybe it's a place where we can only contemplate what happen, where our Problems of Conscience take the shape of a wall.Read More
The Restless Diplomat
Bethany, your nights are so long
And you cannot tell what’s wrong
Your threads touch only the ground
Dragging dirt, rain, where you wound
Puzzled, knowing there is no connection.
Everyone is clay, a smothering depression
Are you fat? Lazy? Forward? Tell me
Otherwise torture yourself—but you see
Desperation conjures mindless avoidance
And retreat to a shallow, pretentious disturbance.
“Fuck them all, good riddance anyway”
And perhaps wander like the stowaway
On the smelly bus eating a molded peach
Grasping to the sweets of confounded beseech.
Albeit other voices, gestures are sour
You have the nurturing power
To stand and outwait the arrogance
Leaving this pit to attend your patience.
Solstice Party (After)
giddy and 18, eating cheesecake in a sandy parking lot – We make our way down to the jetty – shell bits and litter crunch and slip underfoot – & the sun hasn’t melted yet – pink sherbet dripping over sea grit, into barnacles, sugared and slick – I have just lost my body to an invasion – only once – only for a little while – just enough to want to be high all the time but not enough to cry – But when it’s dark, the coastline will light up – bioluminescence – tide pools prickling with tiny stars – do they always? have I been missing things? – How lucky are we to live at sea level – to be able to walk off a continent as we please – & I dream of stepping off, slowly dissolving in icy brine – discarding before – no longer afraid of hands, never a flash flood on Route 6 scouring it all, after. We will weigh the night quiet, soft on our learning shoulders – cupping the excess in cold fingers – understanding – sunset on the longest day is just like any other sunset – but we will remember it better –We will exhale – melt, too
Originally from a small swampy town in Massachusetts, Kelsey Sipple is a Dartmouth College graduate currently based in Seattle, WA. Her work has appeared on poets.org and is forthcoming in 40Towns.
For the month of July, the Lounge is seeking submissions on the themes of SEPARATION, BORDERS, or WALLS. Pieces can be short fiction, one acts, poetry, art, photography, audio clips, videos, or hybrids works. Deadline to submit is July 31. Please submit to email@example.com.
CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS: For the month of June, the Lounge is seeking genre-breaking submissions inspired by the SUMMER SOLSTICE. Pieces can be short fiction, one acts, poetry, art, photography, audio clips, or videos. Deadline to submit is June 29. Please submit to firstname.lastname@example.org.
Exhibit A: Humans receive descriptors well before birth. They are heavy with gravity. But we are creatures tethered to the sky. Although the words we are assigned are earthbound, we crave the knowledge of flight. We beg the stars and moon to speak our true names.Read More