Eighteen

eighteen

is the taste of asphalt and blood, school skirts tucked a little too high above the knees, and we keep running, keep our heads tilted towards skylight; film reel of blurry faces and dreamscapes that pass by too quickly, but i still remember what your hands feel like, soft, we are soft — but not broken yet; tell me, will playgrounds ever feel magical again? hour-long bus rides in the rain, golden-hour glow spilling across our faces, our tiredness; paper memories that will soon gather dust, you a roseate memory i shelter in between the creases; paths never crossing again, empty late-night trains heading home, ghosts feeding on nostalgia, someday we will return —

inspired by @dhritspoetry ♡

Sino artists and writers worldwide: sinθ Issue #6 “CLEAR 清” is accepting submissions! 

Sine Theta is an international creative arts magazine made by and for the Sino diaspora. We publish quarterly print editions showcasing art and writing by Sino creators from around the globe.

We are now accepting submissions for issue #6, to be released on November 18, 2017. Its theme is CLEAR 清 and the submissions deadline is October 8. Please refer to our submission guidelines for more information on how to become a contributor. We feature a wide range of media, including painting, photography, comics, poetry, prose, film stills, installations, and more.

All submitted works must relate to the theme. Visit sinetheta.net/6 for thematic inspiration and more information relating to this issue! 

We also have a Pinterest board with some visual inspiration.

If you are of Sino (Chinese, Taiwanese, Hong Kong, Macau) heritage, please consider submitting! If not, tell a friend who is! Sine Theta is an English-language publication accessible to all.

Please email us at [email protected] if you have any questions!

Instagram | Facebook | Blog | Donate | Guidelines

souvlaki space station

there is nothing tethering us to this weightless existence, bodies drifting into an astral lightness that lasts just short of six minutes. dream song that we slow dive to, with our heads tilted towards the sky; and in this temporary eternity all i taste is air unfenced and alive. our hands reach out to catch the night-coloured echoes, only for them to slip through our fingers, diffusing into hazy memories of a time not forgotten, nor remembered.

(a little poem i wrote based on the song souvlaki space station as a homage to my favourite band in the world)

                              I want to leave                               no one behind.

To keep & be kept.

                             The way a field turns                              its secrets

into peonies.

                            The way light                             keeps its shadow

by swallowing it.

Ocean Vuong, from “Into the Breach,” Night Sky with Exit Wounds (Copper Canyon Press, 2016) 

This nation calls my grandmother a crime, but there are not enough hands to wring the blood out of your name, America always reaching for a gun, America rechristening wombs into bomb shelters.

Kristin Chang, “Women of No Nation,” published in Teen Vogue (via bostonpoetryslam)

follow for more poems on instagram >> Jinan Safko