top of page
Family Meal.jpg
pearl press logo
Dreaming: Lingxue Hao

Dreaming: Lingxue Hao

Journeying Home: Kyra ten Brink

Journeying Home: Kyra ten Brink


they’re all out of foam at the noise canceling headphone factory

this batch is made of cardboard and mink oil
and no one will notice any difference!

the world is very quiet and very sad
not just today but in the overarching sense of an unwashed sweater

clogging the air with dusty warmth

at the noise canceling headphone factory you use your employee discount with
reckless abandon, you give everyone and their little sister and their gerbil a pair and
you hook them around your waist and your legs, cupping you like a coat that calms dogs in thunderstorms, or a

girl wrapped in a fishing net

when you get hired at the noise canceling headphone factory they pull your boyfriend aside and tell him that you suck
they make you write love poems to ipods
and then read them to your boyfriend who is already resenting
your wannabe ee cummings inclinations

you lie in your room earlier than you’re used to

trying to make the quiet feel purposeful
and not like a space you have to fill to fall asleep

behind your door you can hear your boyfriend walking down the hall

the sink turns on
the muffled shake of a towel around his hair
every sound a hum, every hum a lurch

a licorice twist of not wanting to see him, bitter and chewed up, putting your foot down

but hoping the next few seconds will bring the successive melody of stairs thudding
the rising tide knock of his fist on your door, louder with passing time
every buzz in your chest is a betrayal
sleep won’t come and neither will he

luckily the noise canceling headphone factory prepared you for this exact scenario

in a simulation pod with crash dummy actors...ear by ear...
you know exactly what to do....

Keira DiGaetano


Fire: Lingxue Hao


AMIDOL: Sophie Schwartz



I tend to my desires as a beekeeper

        ​to her hives, blithely assuming the hives

are mine and so naming each bee, all

        ​the while wondering if there’s a difference

between care and concern—and would

        the answer even matter that much at all.

David Grunner

Diario de ausencias: Karla Guerrero

Diario de ausencias: Karla Guerrero

Diario de ausencias: Karla Guerrero

Diario de ausencias: Karla Guerrero

Hair Style.jpg

Hair Style: Lingxue Hao

By The Time the Sky Turns Red: Devin Fitchwell

By The Time the Sky Turns Red: Devin Fitchwell


I check my phone and under notes it says one cheese pizza, no bubbles. A leftover from another year. I think about survival. The way it differs in each person’s tone. How when I tell my great aunt I love you, she now searches for words, but I always know her answer. My nephew rolls his “love you” in hurried exclamation and I can’t seem to find a balance between the two. It's dark now and I’m rounding the clock to California where women organize a celebrity’s home on tv. The cat plays outside, and my sister and I laugh like children, dreaming of the Hollywood on screen. I check my notes again, deciphering it like a souvenir. There is no giant. We’re grown, our appetites brutal.

I take this as sustenance.

Olivia Delgado

Into the Surf. Malibu, CA: Molly Peters

Into the Surf. Malibu, CA: Molly Peters



Journeying Home: Kyra ten Brink

Journeying Home: Kyra ten Brink

Adam Thorman Alcatraz Quiote and Cormorants March 15 2022.jpg

Alcatraz Quiote and Cormorants, March 15, 2022: Adam Thorman

Adam Thorman Alcatraz Quiote and Cormorants March 14 2023.jpg

Alcatraz Quiote and Cormorants, March 14, 2023: Adam Thorman


Tibi tibi dabo tibidabo, all this, all this will I give you, the funicular hauled up the mountain by death, tibidabo the rabid, mortal sense of holiday as we clutch and ascend, tibi, to you, you alone, the bowl of Barcelona the far-off sheen of the sea, haec tibi omnia dabo si cadens adoraveris me, if you fall down and adore me, haec haec yes all this the smashed dragon glued to smithereens in the Parc Güell, all the strong yellow blue glaze, all the old looped apartment blocks the green blinds and canaries, all the caged birds on the Ramblas, the indifference of the matrons in frocks, every thief in the bari gotic, every bare-chested sailor on Carrer d'Avinyó, the smell of sherry and fish, the docks tamed to leisure, flattened to the expensive sea, yes all this if you will forget the past and spend with me.

Fiona Vigo Marshall


Erosion: Molly Peters


Black cats aren’t unlucky:
A genetic mutation colors their fur.

Jack Frost doesn’t paint
leaves red: cold nights kill chlorophyl.

The dead don’t give a damn

who walks over their graves.

The living are haunted

by their own regrets.

And yet...

Perhaps darkling beetles philosophize

despite their ganglion brain. Perhaps

fish have feelings. Is truth subjective

if our perception of blue differs?

Can we accept death’s inevitability

and still, without holding back, love?

Cricket Miller



Dusk on the Road: Molly Peters

Dusk on the Road: Molly Peters


My friend referred to his privates as “Big Jim and the twins”
and I almost spit out my beer.

Life is as deep and as warm as the connections you have.

Connections with nature, with others, with your work, with yourself.

She turned around and asked “do you like it?”

Knowing very well my heart is howling for her.

This girl doesn’t pay her taxes.

We fall apart, then come together

We fall together, then come apart.

Felt like someone grabbed me in the middle of my stomach.

There is a difference between accepting someone and not denying them.

        She asked if I wanted to go make poetry in the back seat.

I have the urge to make up years of discontent

With bright sudden flashes of lust.

We hurt each other

While we’re still young and learning

And rarely apologize.

Who could be as soft as her?

Who could play better music than the sounds she makes?

I don’t need a reason to do what I do.

        I’m not getting old, it’s my body that’s getting old.                               Feel like the art you want to make.

There are two types of fools:

One who doesn’t know he’s being the fool

And one who knows he’s being a fool

And does it anyway.

A hundred suspicions don’t make a proof. 

I once had my mind like a clean slate but unfortunately, I spent most of my time either piling trash on it or trying to shovel it out. Did this back and forth for a couple years. Took me a while to lay some good soil and grow something pretty.

Pay attention to the way you address yourself in your head
The manner and tone in which you hear that inner voice
The voice that interprets your emotions

Have it only talk with love and never lie

Don’t forget to forget your knowledge at times and just perceive. 

To feel and not try to figure out.

        Don’t be obvious, be direct.

I don’t believe in God but he loves me regardless.

With all these notes in my phone you’d think I’d be a better person by now damn.

You will grow no matter what

So be intentional in your direction

Direction over speed

Learning how to break patterns and set patterns for yourself is very important.


        Be aware of the glitchy parts of your perception.

A realization is not wisdom yet.

There are two things an artist must know how to do:
1. How to create
2. How to polish

Love is not an emotion

Love is a way of living.

I get so caught up in being human I forget what I’m here for.


Taking on pain to show off your strength

Is easier than being brave.

I love the parts of you I can’t have.

In order to do the things I want to do in life

I have to break the person I currently am
I have to learn to change.

Diego Ray

Family Meal.jpg

Family Meal: Lingxue Hao

Red Spot.jpg

Red Spot: Lingxue Hao

By The Time the Sky Turns Red: Devin Fitchwell

By The Time the Sky Turns Red: Devin Fitchwell


I’d meant to mention all things euphoria,
the genus, the furry bumble flower

beetles stuck to the sunflowers

how they seemed careful, flying with ponderous weight

I’d meant to mention the whole hierarchy of the garden

that summer. yellow jackets, paper wasps

the cute carpenter bees the bald face hornets

in black and white prison garb

I’d wanted to speculate where their nest was

then the wildfire smoke cleared, the moon was no longer red

the water blue-green

algae, the prairie dogs had the plague the people had covid

a meteor-shower peaked, I found the nest

in the lilac bush already half destroyed and vacant

the aspen had to be cut down, the elm cracked
in the wind
when it landed
the finch was so light it barely moved the dead sunflower stalk.

it was already fall and everything had a softer intonation
a greater ambiguity. the pearly haze at the top of the hill—
the light had come, not as brilliance but obfuscation
that stung the eyes and throat
that said and revealed not

Sam R. Watson

In Transit: Molly Peters

In Transit: Molly Peters

Untitled: Kara Birnbaum

Untitled: Kara Birnbaum

Thank you for reading.

For more updates check on Instagram.

Delilah Twersky

Pearl Press


bottom of page