Queer

ISSUE 33

Gulf Stream’s Fall 2023 Issue, Queer, was entirely crafted by authors and artists who push the boundaries of their craft. It pays homage to what a creative mind can do when they allow themselves to color with all the crayons in their crayon box, eschewing rigid structures and expected plot devices for something a little new and something just a little unique. And at Gulf Stream, this is precisely what we believe is the best definition for what “Queer,” is. It’s pushing those boundaries, becoming something transformative and, dare we say, a little punk rock.
-Arnaldo Batista, Managing Editor

Self-portrait from Unnamable Year

by Jonathan Everitt Self-portrait from Unnamable Year How often do we not know whatto call a thing until the aftermath?Once, I melted in someone’s mirror,heart a hot rock, heavy in my throat.Presence flipped to absence flapjack-fast.Sheets thunder-rumpled suddenlyby July’s overblown unstable air.Of course there was a downpour.We need reasons to stay alone. To playthe saddest…

BRINK

by Alex Braslavsky BRINK I’m talking about the size of my grilledcheese on Valentine’s Day in 2022.I’m bleeding every month. Mencan wear as many goose puffers as they want.In a single day, I have wasted so many darts.A pom-pom appears on the ottoman. In a trice, after orbiting the womb,I was begging for never. I…

11:53pm

by Maslen Bode Ward 11:53pm sometimes I watch pornwhere the woman isan object andthe man looksmad there isusually a womanand a manI am surprisednot to have morematches on hingearen’t I in New York Cityin the porn I watch the woman moansthe man seemslike he’s losing his virginitya man on hinge asksmy favorite three albumsand I’m…

MY GRINDR

after Denise Duhamel’s “MY STRIP CLUB” by Aaron DeLee MY GRINDR after Denise Duhamel’s “MY STRIP CLUB” In my Grindrthe guys show upbaring grinsand hard-boundbooks they nimbly fingeropen as bottles of roséand buttons on cardigans.When the conversation’s litthey lick their thumbsand flurry a fan of pages to favorite passages––they’re so poignant.They excitedly exclaimhow close they…

While sitting at the temple

by Meriden Vitale While sitting at the temple I’m reading a stirring obituary that ends with a warning. Jane isolated herself from her friends and eventually hung herself from the bookshelf in her apartment. The sister she hated got everything. Write a legally binding will to prevent this. Overheard: she was sharing her vulnerability. She…

Wife of Cain

by JaLeah Hedrick Wife of Cain Oh motherless thing, first of us to beerased. Not even Eve with her cloutcould keep your name in the Book.You wandered (an animal) into that exurbof Eden. How did they make you human first?Wash you in the water of heaven, rinse awaythe scent of earth, that you could be…

self-portrait without a mirror

by Esther Ra self-portrait without a mirror tears form small, glossy patches on the poolof my skirt   remind me how small is my sorrow after long stillness   my body hums   its tuneless& squeaking refrain  kiln-dried spruce pianoin need of touch   to make music   your mouthteaches me the shape of my own   measuresthe size of my yearn & the library   …

Directions

by Aysha Mahmood Directions Cling to me. Now, coil and squeeze, claw out my muscles,crunch out my bones, carve your name into my femur, digyour teeth deep into my thigh, make my skin sweat, foamat the mouth, growl and howl and devour – be rabid about it –rip out my nerves and swallow me whole,…

our mother a landscape

by Benjamin Favero our mother a landscape we stay to paint our mothera landscape her stretch marks tree trunks ash and chestnutclouds bellied over her hands creased with peaks we hopethey grow in perfect varicose vines draped from roots to ankledeep as her womb of salt brine her ribs flared to cliffs againsta crested tide…

Suburban Murmurs

by Matthew Williams Suburban Murmursa grandmother lifts her hands to catch the laughing child fields of orange poppies name our naked flanks running she plucks and eats the summer from bushes in the backyard tall as a robin my father stands at the roadside holding an unlit cigarette a woman hangs a white sheet in…

Eucharist

by Kenneth Chacon Eucharist I once knew a manwho met Godin a crater on the moon. He fed me the bonesof his fingers & told methe crown of the earth restedat my feet in the floor. The armies of mensharpen knives.They fasten armorto beasts, bladescurved to the exactnoose of a neighbor’s neck. I saw the…

SELF-PORTRAIT AS DAYDREAM

by Sophie Bebeau SELF-PORTRAIT AS DAYDREAM you’d like to fuck the pool boy        if you hada pool or a boy to clean it you’d like to be a middle-aged suburban Rapunzel wearing nothingbut a long Pepto pink satin robe feather trim   drool on your chintidal wave swoops of your Coke bottle hair surging forth to drownyour boredom  you’d…

Marlboros at Sunset

by Tali Rose West Marlboros at Sunset I’ve started smoking again. Not a whole lot—I’m not a chain smoker or anything—but I like to have a reason to stand on my balcony overlooking the apartment pool and watch the sky. There’s this moment each day when the sun’s setting, just a second before the horrible…

Transfusion

by A. Molotkov Transfusion 1. Sarah  The smell of rot is so pervasive it adheres to the inside of my nose and mouth. I force myself to ignore it.  Impossible. The horizon is interrupted by the red glow of forest fires. The other woman’s face, too, is tinted red. She’s walked with me for a…

The Other Side of a Fourth-Place Medal

by Christa Rohrbach The Other Side of a Fourth-Place Medal You are 18 months old when your first hairs sprout. Your mother is ecstatic when she sees them: three tiny, fair, and thin little hairs that were somehow able to pierce through the smooth porcelain of your scalp. She thinks maybe you will stop being…

The Doll

by Kris Norbraten They dragged the doll into the hot shower to get it back to life. Some semblance of life. It wasn’t exactly a doll or wasn’t supposed to be. It was supposed to be something more.  Randi’s bare feet squeaked on the acrylic shower bottom. She’d gotten herself wedged into the stall, no…

A Word Flows Between Us

by Vimla Sriram A Word Flows Between Us When the word Heathen barrels past the street and lands at my feet, I already know its intended for me even if it hangs unclaimed suspended like molecules of mist before the averted eyes of the regulars at the transit center.  * Among the more palatable meaning of Heathen…

The Sun is Down

by Randy Smith The Sun is Down The nandina’s briolette-cut leaves and conical white flowering spires paste their dreamy selves against the night in a spellbound collage.    Collage meaning a jumbled collection of impressions, events,      and styles, from French meaning “to glue.”    Night is a pastiche of memory, even when it is the…

Editing Staff for Issue 33

Faculty Advisor: Denise Duhamel

Managing Editor: Arnaldo Batista

Assistant Managing Editor: Travis Cohen

Creative Nonfiction Editor: Jose Noroño

Poetry Editor: Ellie Gomero

Fiction Editor: Sophia Tirado

Readers: Michael Cuervo, Ericka Hodge, Carlos Martin, Rebecca Wallwork

Cover Image: “Running deer” — acrylic on board 18” x 12” 

Rowan Kilduff (b. 1984) dad, mountain-runner, activist, artist, writer. His pictures appear on nanaoglobal.com; rewilding.org, ecozon@ España, and zestletteraturasostenibile.com, & poems and interviews in Rewilding Earth, Wingspan (Raptor Research Foundation US), Shufpoetry, The Irish Poetry Reading Archive, UCD, Camas Montana. His book Wind to Space will be out in 2024 from New Jersey publisher Read Furiously, and he has a book called Fire songs, sky songs, mountain songs (2022) with a foreword by Jack Loeffler (Headed into the wind).