Tortula muralis. Does that feel too formal to you? Wall screw-moss, then. I’ve seen you every day that I’ve lived in this flat, your green cushion gently hooked onto the garden’s brick wall. I could have so easily pulled you away whole, brought you inside. Instead, I brushed my hands against your tender body. Tapped my fingers along the sporophytes you extend into the air above you. And I have thought only of your softness.

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Guest Art Editor: Fatoş Üstek
Artists: Florence Peake, Sin Wai Kin and Esben Weile Kjaer
Writers: Cynan Jones, Michel Faber, Chika Unigwe, Rebecca Rukeyser, Cason Sharpe, Vijay Khurana, Lauren John Joseph, Cecilie Lind (trans Hazel Evans), Lucy Roeber, Judy Moore, Sam Ashby and Jessica J Lee
Poets: eliot duncan, Mutsuo Takahashi (trans Jeffrey Angles) and Sara Martin
Cover & Photo Story: Polly Brown

When I miss America, when I miss the heady American cycle of extremity and shame— glutting and then repenting with such extremity the penitence is itself a kind of glutting, abstaining until the abstinence is as voluptuous as excess—I look at r/gooncaves.

A few definitions. Gooning refers to entering a state of trance-like, porn-fueled masturbation. It’s edging plus: the idea is to hold off orgasm essentially indefinitely and fall into a sort of a drooling state of ecstasy. Consuming a profound amount of porn is integral to this.

There was a big purity politics hubbub recently about how sex scenes in movies are unnecessary and gratuitous. This is some tenderqueer “no-kink-at-pride”-but-still-has-a-day-job-with-Lockheed-Martin bullshit.