AMP. Always Electric.

AND NOW A WORD FROM OUR STAFF: New Writing by Issue 3's Editorial Board



winner of the Hofstra University Citizen Competition for Best Poem
inspired by Claudia Rankine's "Citizen"

//let's start with some abstract object or class
System.out.println("we both remember the bus");
//a means of movement, of getting around the same
//shit i've been hearing for centuries, around the facts

 //damn right i want to be
String FEELING = "unlit dynamite";
//yes an urge burns and burns and burns
//in my chest but i cannot tell which

//or a body remembering

//or a body remembering to forget

//how neat loving you was when we were younger

System.out.println("how loving you meant the world



//yes, you got it -- all i got in me are

lovepoem[mis] = new lovepoem[mis++]; //YES YES

String "i want to be! the heat in your heart!

   the spark in your palm!

      your fix" = UNKNOWN; //logic error: uninitiated

         variable reference


//no, nigga, i cannot be--

//i cannot even see clearly who

//we are; "=" EQUALS "becomes"

//last i checked we bodied negation, ah



world Twenty-Seventeen.BigMood =

randomchoice(MADNESS, GLADNESS,


//it don't care about the errors here --

//it still runs, don't it:

//all you or i or we need to make a world

//is the knowledge

//or the power

//or the means

//to unMAKE it; negate it


System.out.println("But i / we / you're afraid to


//i want to tell you about the

//brightest plains of Africa or the

//night of Times Square without getting all

if (ME == "gewy-eyed" && ME == “saccharine-sentimental")

      //about you, who




   brokethereal(); //&


//only to leave it relocated and waiting

//for me

//in another second, another body; I


//wanted to write you a story on this violence

//and my anger w/o you turning away --     




System.out.println("this is it -- the hope that rots –-

   change -- one of us must give in. Me? Me! All i am is

   -- ");


if (Twenty-Seventeen.BigMood == UNKNOWN)





   System.out.println("if only words could change ppl's



String THEEND = "All I can think about is Sade

singing through the Bus' radio

long after sunset. Your Love is

King. And when the world is only

so small, I mourn how easy it is

to breathe”;

E 14th and Gandhi

by Tyler Thier

2018 MFA candidate in poetry

Union Square, the southwest corner where you can just

make out the digital doomsday clock, just above

the statue of Gandhi that I had always assumed

was an old banking magnate with a decorative cane.

I walked through earlier tonight, heading towards

the intersection where we argued over an uncertain future—

whether to re-caffeinate at the Starbucks down the block

or just call it a night and slink back to the vacuous

roads between larger stretches of Long Island highway.

Then I drew closer to a cluster of people behind Mahatma,

a neon glow jutting out from them and framing him

in a halo—a beacon of serenity in an urban network

of anthills, that ten-inch wide zen garden you described

as the one he inhabits between the sidewalks, a perfect spot

for exhaling the sponge-yellow dust of traffic.

I listened to the EDM distortion on a battered stereo hidden

somewhere between the legs of everyone and continued

toward Bleecker—that Bollywood-themed counter-serve

with brain-searing Indian food that, in the moment of this

crowd’s multi-colored blaze, was going to be eaten in your honor.

And I looked back to watch the neon loom high above the streets—

those glowsticks children flail aggressively in friends’ faces

and puncture the elixir out of at bowling-alley bar mitzvahs

and pop-drenched block parties, hurling over the freshest

horde of subwayfarers with a ballistic whir and for a moment

flash-bulbing the dark-chocolate enamel of Gandhi’s face.