As a journal that pays semi-professional rates and always has a free submission option, our need for financial support is great. Funds raised on GoFundMe will go toward paying creators for their work (whether published in Snarl Online or in print), covering print costs for the print issue, and more. Continue reading Support Snarl: GoFundMe Campaign
When men envision the future,
polyester-clad chest over wrought-iron frame echoing
like the long, hollow hold of a wooden boat,
they see
little ray guns, shiny, Continue reading “2098,” a Poem by Holly Eva Allen
Take all your heavensand line them uphere is what you havewhat to bring with you—these apple blossomsthese striated winter skiesyour mother in the flowerbedsyour teethsplitting the name of the girlin the red windbreakerinto halvesyour shallow footprints in the foliar carpetdisordered and roaming. oh whiskey-eyed sunoh landscape after a wildfirein a dream we go softy into the groundhand-in-handthe choir orchestrating HallelujahHallelujah. Jessica Moore is a San … Continue reading “On the Desire for an Accompanied Death,” a Poem by Jessica Moore
Sữa: milk. (Watch the dip of your tongue–Sửa: to fix.) Curdle rinsed. Empty plastic gallons windchimed against your collected hollow aluminum. Cans creased sharp. Sliced your and mother’s fingerprints. Stung to grip the bag. Big enough to float. Gravity-less smile on cartoon Earth. Revolving wheels crush and haybale. Overalled, the attendant opened our bag to sort and toss. Five cents. Ten cents. Not in California, not … Continue reading “Speak, Plastic,” a Poem by Jade Hidle
I remember my mother dancing. I remember craning my neck to see her, tilting my head so far back that my eyes were in line with my heels, for when I was short and round and two-years-old, my mother was tall and translucent, and very beautiful and would have been twenty-one-years-old. Continue reading “I Remember My Mother Dancing,” an Essay by Manju Prasad
I follow you as you follow the one above you.
You take the cliff, the trees, the deer on your wings.
I am behind you watching the ground over which we fly. Continue reading “Cliff Notes,” a Poem by Diane Glancy
If you turn
your attention
to the Mississippi
river, you’ll see
the closeted Continue reading “Earth Gazing,” a Poem by Rubin Hardin
On the corner of 16th Street and Peralta, in front of the New Jerusalem Baptist Church, is an antediluvian dopeman who will give you balloons of brown powder in exchange for exotic cheeses. For a pound of Jersey Blue you can expect at least three balloons; a pear-shaped Caciocavallo Podolico could get you six, possibly seven. Definitely seven. It is a well known fact that … Continue reading “The Wheel of San Geronimo,” an Essay by David Simmons
Calluses
on hands
and knees
and feet Continue reading “Callus,” a Poem by Chris Alaimo
First:
See all. Father, Mother, Son.
Homonymy of
weight and wait. Continue reading “The God Shammgod,” a Poem by Will Shook-Shoup
