By Jimmy Kindree That grimace. That sudden laugh. That arch in your eyebrows and another check of the sky. Your dark eyes cringing into wrinkles as if, in that moment, you’d become older than me, an...

By Robert Frankel He’d learned how to levitate when he was young as a defense mechanism against “who-knows-what,” the fear of which metastasizes amongst every raised-right Southern queer. If that ...

**ANNOUNCEMENT: Fees will be waived for all Black and Indigenous writers, and writers of Palestinian descent, to support those most targeted by state violence. Email editor [at] anomalouspress [dot] o...

the way of the brush

Summer 1995, I quit my job. No prospects, my bit of savings dwindling. Doubt on doubt had worn the contours of the world paper-thin, until bald emptiness stared blank at me from the reflective surface...