Current Issue

Volume V, Issue 2, #18 (June 2026)

a note from dusti

Maybe I’m just getting old (I turned 50 earlier this year, so I know that to be true), but summer seems to come on so quickly now. Here on the Louisiana prairie, we’ve already had a tropical depression as well as plenty of days hit over 90°F. The relentless sun will bake the land until our actual autumn arrives sometime in mid-November. I know other places on this planet have it much worse than we do, and I try to be grateful for the benefits of the sun’s hard work here along the Texas border.

This issue drew poems about connection (and disconnection) and place.

In Volume V, Issue 1, depz #18,  you’ll read poems by Kyla Houbolt, Corey, Cass Torrence, Stevie Subrizi, Samuel Day Wharton, AJ Luxton, and Kenneth Pobo. One thing I strive for here is to present a variety of poets with few repeats. The first three issues, back in 2022, featured a three-part poem by Zoe Chuang, and one of the comeback issues had some solicitations. Otherwise, I love giving space to new-to-us poets. At least one of this month’s poets has their first publication with us in issue #18!

We had a record number of submissions for this issue. Because I intentionally keep delicate emissions small, I may implement a submission cap in the future. I’ll update readers on that on the delicate emissions blog here.

I put out a physical product — an actual hand-made zine — for every issue, and it’s quite lovely. You can order one here. Because I want this work to be accessible, I’ve set up the checkout code HECKYES, which provides a 100% discount. And because I want to keep doing this work I’ve loved for the last five years, you can also donate to help delicate emissions keep going.  Each issue costs $3 to print, and takes hours of work to put together. Support hand-made, heart-made art.

Keep taking care of yourselves and each other. And now…the poetry. 

Your friend,

dusti rw levy

founder & editor

THE POETRY

I don’t know how to tell you we should stop inventing the torment nexus

by AJ Luxton

and I don’t care how efficient your design for a

server farm of Omelas children is, we’re

not doing it. Babe we have so many

Omelas kids at home already

shut up and torture your

politicians who at least

know what they’re

getting paid for

† † †

Georgia’s House, Abiqui, NM

by Cass Torrence

You told me find some pussy art

but the museum was closed.

In the still open welcome center

I find Georgia’s chemex

Georgia’s clothes Georgia’s chairs

Georgia’s letters Georgia’s fear.

It takes time to see, Georgia said.

So I touch every postcard in the shop

the same way I touch you (slow, searching)

Until my fingers land on Series One:

White & Blue Flower Shapes.

Ah yes, I.

† † †

privileges revoked

by Corey

i wake up one day and they can’t drive

we can’t drive

we wake up one day and we can’t drive

i wake up one day and they are kicked out of girl guides

we are kicked out of girl guides

kicked out

outed

banned

buried

† † †

I USED TO THINK IT WOULDN’T HAPPEN HERE

by Kenneth Pobo

The dictator drinks a diet Coke while

his torture camps make many disappear.

As cameras flash, we see his sad smile.

The dictator drinks a diet Coke while

much of the country stays in denial.

As his fury builds, he creates more fear.

The dictator drinks a diet Coke while

his torture camps make many disappear.

† † †

Here’s What to Know

by Kyla Houbolt

wilderness is inside its own

hat. think about that for a minute,

at least. because outside? all

tamed. mowed, trimmed, trained

terribly to be chained with a lock that can’t

open. why a hat though?

The Fish Project

by Kyla Houbolt

Insomnia’s long sleep.

Deciding whether to add

a pebble to the avalanche

or to remove one.

Heaven collects

the documents and

we are still aghast

at eternity.

Some things fast,

some slow.

† † †

Father Dream

by Samuel Day Wharton

the only one that really sticks

                        is from childhood

a highrise on fire      emerging

on the roof amidst smoke & blame

            your head pinned

                        to a clothesline

your eyes (my eyes) rolled back

& the abyssal space below

            as I throw myself down

as I wake      I dreamt this without context

you then lived            then you died

I dreamt this without sound      your voice

                                    gone mute

I can’t recall a parachute

            yet I made it to the ground

Poem

by Samuel Day Wharton

            is a poem

written backwards on a mirror

a door opening      first one way

            then one way      only

† † †

Upon Seeing My Deadname Listed as an Alias

by Stevie Subrizi

Like vertigo. Like the road
in a sideview
mirror. Mountains

in an airplane
window. Clouds passing
under wings.

A steel starship
gliding away to
its own dead world.

A disused factory
absorbed by the earth
and its leaves.

A Dream for My Cat Rebe

by Stevie Subrizi

You rush past / the screen door / and curl
through / the night grass / a question mark /
no longer / You sit / beside a rabbit /

your face as calm / as a pond / You stare at me /
as if to say, “Yes / This is the earth / We
live / on top of it” / and in the dream / this

is our nightly ritual / so I stand there / and
watch you / nuzzle long blades / of grass
as they slice / the wind / but the rabbit / darts /

into the gnarled brush / gone forever / eaten /
by moonless dark / where no dream can see /
your eyes follow / “Come back,” I say

† † †

THE POETS

Corey is a writer, poet and artist living, working and drawing inspiration from Bunurong country, Naarm. They love dancing, swimming, reading and creating. They’re c0rey.tay on Instagram.

Kyla Houbolt is a poet and gardener living in North Carolina. Her first full length collection, Becoming Altar, from Subpress Poetry, is available from Asterismbooks.com. Find Kyla at her website & on BlueSky.

AJ Luxton is a feral queer autistic poet-thing & Stonecoast MFA graduate. It builds nests out of words, pigments, and shiny rocks in Venice, California. Find AJ on Instagram at FaeryChurch & TesseractPoet. 

Kenneth Pobo has a new book out called Raylene And Skip (Wolfson Press).  He’s retired and loves to garden. Find him on BlueSky. 

Cass Torrence lives & writes in the high desert and Brooklyn. They love transition lenses & poems that pierce. They’re on Instagram as Casserini.

Stevie Subrizi is a genderqueer songwriter, poet, and former cohost of the Boston Poetry Slam. Their chapbook Alone and Naked Inside of a Whale won Yemassee Journal’s 2021 Poetry Chapbook Contest. Stevie is on BandCamp and BlueSky.

Samuel Day Wharton‘s recent work has appeared (or will appear) in $ (Poetry Is Currency), Villain Era, HAD, & Pictura. Check him out on Bluesky.

THE FOUNDER & EDITOR

Dusti RW Levy is a queer disabled poet, essayist, educator, performer, dramaturg, and playwright. Raised mostly in the desert Southwest and having spent many years on the High Plains and in Cascadia, Dusti now splits their time between the Louisiana Prairie and Alabama’s coastal plain. They are the parent of three beautiful young adults. Follow Dusti on BlueSky and Instagram. 

Ghostlight Silence Publishing, 2026