An independent community-focused publisher of art and writing by queer, trans, and gender variant creatives.

fifth wheel press is an independent community-focused publisher of art and writing by queer, trans, and gender variant creatives.

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fifth wheel press

Only open to submitters in the queer/lgbtqia+ community

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GARLAND Issue 1

cw; death

(...)

My mind still dips its paintbrush into wrong colors– for a moment, 
my mother’s voice sounds like someone else. For a moment, I expect 
ghosts to come out of the room whose vacancy I’ve occupied, 
time to rewind itself back to wh

the graveyard always hungers for more

I have to ask myself if I am willing to be hurt by you

Do your nipples think they are in some long-distance relationship?

								Yes, and— 

On Learning to Live with Puppet Strings

7. You must dance when the song comes on. Make your boobs jiggle so hard everyone thinks you’re a mixologist.

Guide to Finding an Infinite Number of Selves

RE-PULSE

a body laid bare and all the secrets
held within. all the truths leak out

a familiar scarring. the body
rebuilds itself, pulls each limb

back in place and re-enters the world
as a fracture. a haze of eyes

unseeing, the change uncared for

RE-PULSE

death of abstraction

i’ve been dreaming of the world coming to a close.
my mind becomes violent when left to itself.
the last, the world shaking itself apart,

rupturing its spine in order to cleave what is
no longer necessary.

death of abstraction

You Told Me You Killed Her

West Wittering

When We Are Looking At the Same Moon

I turn my head toward sunlight with closed eyes and try to burn the world away,
maybe try to set myself alight too,
hoping the crawling spring will grant me the small mercy of disappearing

before I settle for the calamity of summer.

(...)

staring at the sun (until I see the real you)

GSA: queer desire at a small, restrictive high school

Hey, Big Spender: a debaucherous summer of sex, drugs, and yoga (as one does)

two stories: GSA & Hey, Big Spender

"Your world never ends how you think it will."

Cambridge

Heart Emoji (Pink w/ Sparkles), Heart Emoji (Broken)

i think yr real cool like blue lemonade real pretty like bluebells i'm underwater drowning and still i take time to admire the backlit outline of you [...]

Feature: three works by Zoe Adrien Lapa

When They Foretold Our Futures

"We sit on a splintered teak bench,

shaded in a cloister of soft white petals"

'menil park (kissing a girl)'

 -.-. --- -. ...- .. -. -.-. .     -- .     ..     .-- .. .-.. .-..

I was boiling with color and ancient the day I knew life—
Supernovas don’t last long.

Telegraph to a Constellation

Poem published digitally. After Joy Harjo. Not quite sure what this poem is about, but it's one of my favorites.

She Knew The Moon

Catching Light

Ten Years of Hell

fait accompli

against impossible odds

VII-2. [Vodka Mutini]

mermaid bible

how to construct a breakup poem

Stormsong

i tried to cup you in my hands but could only watch you leak through

In Monstro

An acrid puff of smoke I inhaled deep in my lungs for some semblance of feeling. In essence, a comfort I held dear.

You Showed Me All Your Colors

Challenging the idea that a fast writer = a good writer. Why I enjoy slow drafting and the lessons I've learned from it.

The Joys of Slow Drafting

White Squall Reel

This poem of mine was published in the gorgeous dreamland anthology, so give it a read!

27°C, Lincoln, England

For this blue, is a remnant of the sky, the ocean; of vast expanses and depths, aching to be explored. I am only a mirror of such stark things, yet only a fraction of the beauty. 

Devouring the Deep Blue

like a prayer i've already forgotten / who we're pretending for

fantasia

"let's pretend reckless / wasn't a verb" 

funeral for losing another barbie at the beach

Violet Stains on Violet Trees

mouth full of maple leaves

i dream of // eve babitz LA // sticky motel // hallways strewn with jacaranda blossoms //

motel

"I'm a two-dollar boy, but there's nothing worn about me. 
Nothing unholy about a body built from scratch.
Sound!                            with the silent beat of wings,
                                       on the bed frame, on back of man."

Prophet's Head Cold

I Am Being So Normal About Desire

For most of her young life, Belinda dreamed of future occurrences. Small happenings that would rent her unconscious to use as a stage on which to rehearse...

Small Changes

"Your body teems with birds flying north.
It’s summertime in the valley
of your mouth..."

On Breezy Days When the Veil Seems Thinner

...I found this moss
for you it is soft you are soft I am
green inside there are stars
in the moss...

Star Moss

a prose poem about being a weird little guy.

the kind of caterpillar that blooms into an onion

water rations allowed three showers per day per 
home, but multigenerational homes 
got five a day. two showers equal a 
bath, and my mother made sure my 
sister and i played mermaids each 
sunday. poured  lavender salts in and 
called it the arctic

playing mermaids each sunday

Her car broke down slowly, as we would too. 
I think of her on highway 202. 

fifth wheel press

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