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Issue 1: Spring 2022

  1. Serena Solin
  2. Toby Altman  
  3. S. Brook Corfman
  4. Katana Smith
  5. Natalee Cruz
  6. Emma Wilson
  7. Ashley Colley
  8. Colin Criss 
  9. Jack Chelgren
  10. Stefania Gomez 

Issue 2: Summer 2022
  1. Matthew Klane
  2. Ryan Nhu
  3. TR Brady
  4. Alana Solin
  5. K. Iver
  6. Emily Barton Altman
  7. William Youngblood
  8. Alex Wells Shapiro  
  9. Sasha Wiseman
  10. Yunkyo Moon-Kim

Issue 3: Fall 2022
  1. Sun Yung Shin
  2. Rosie Stockton
  3. Adele Elise Williams & Henry Goldkamp
  4. Noa Micaela Fields
  5. Miriam Moore-Keish
  6. Fred Schmalz
  7. Katy Hargett-Hsu
  8. Alicia Mountain
  9. Austin Miles
  10. Carlota Gamboa

  Birthday Presents
       for William Blake

    Five Words for William Blake
        on His 265th Birthday
            (after Jack Spicer)

Issue 4: Winter 2023

  2. Daniel Borzutzky
  3. Alicia Wright
  4. Asha Futterman
  5. Ellen Boyette
  6. S Cearley
  7. Sebastián Páramo
  8. Abbey Frederick
  9. Caylin Capra-Thomas
  10. maryhope|whitehead|lee & Ryan Greene

Issue 5: Spring 2023

  1. Jose-Luis Moctezuma 
  2. Peter Leight
  3. Rachel Galvin
  4. Sophia Terazawa
  5. Katherine Gibbel
  6. Lloyd Wallace
  7. Timothy Ashley Leo
  8. Jessica Laser
  9. Kira Tucker
  10. Michael Martin Shea

Issue 6: Summer 2023

An Introduction to Tyger Quarterly’s The Neo-Surrealist Interview Series

1. Mary Jo Bang 
2. Marty Cain 
3. Dorothy Chan 
4. Aditi Machado 
5. Alicia Mountain
6. Serena Solin
7. Marty Riker 
8. Francesca Kritikos
9. Luther Hughes
10. Toby Altman

Bonus: William Blake Tells All

Issue 7: Fall 2023 

1. Dennis James Sweeney 
2. M. Cynthia Cheung
3. Nathaniel Rosenthalis
4. Reuben Gelley Newman
5. James Kelly Quigley 
6. Christine Kwon
7. Maxwell Rabb
8. Maura Pellettieri 
9. Patty Nash 
10. Alyssa Moore

Email: tyger quarterly @ gmail dot com 

©2022 TQ

K. Iver


You’ve never seen a lilac in Mississippi.
Backstage you wear lotion laced with
its chemical imitation. A ballet mistress
says relevé always as command: lift
onto the toe using only the heel.
Your ankle’s bewilderment
old as the horned owl gaze from
your mother hunched in the audience.
You enter the stage as Lilac Fairy
& fairies make critical things happen,
though underneath your tulle brushing
sleep over a kingdom, you’re a mouse
who gets eaten every night.
No audience wants to see that. Not
the barbed feathers tucked in your
mother’s cardigan. If you pretend
rescue is coming, it might.
Relevé meaning rise & also relief.
Lift your head along with the heel.
A boy your mother says is not a boy
follows your pirouettes from the balcony.
Already a wondering, rise to what.
The ballet can’t perform without
fairytale. The stage is safe for magic,
or at least pretend. Almost everyone gets
a solo in Sleeping Beauty, so no surgeon’s
daughter has hidden your pointe shoes
in the dressing room couch. The boy
was careful not to bring flowers
but you can feel his eyes bending around
the shoulders, clavicle, and neck you forgot
existed. When these minutes end,
these minutes of spinning his eyes
in their own pirouette, the world
won’t allow you to leave in his red Bronco,
not anymore. Already, hope sounds like
the adult word for magic. Relevé
meaning how much choreographed
relief a kingdom tolerates. Already
you are learning the off-state rules
about who gets rescued. Who throws
flowers and who catches them.


When a man follows too close, I think of the nights
my mother unrolled the day with her pantyhose,

having been chased around a desk, the afternoons
she insisted on posing outside the car so fifth-grade boys

would gawk, glazed as her hair frost. Without warning
she undressed and dressed in my presence. I pretended

not to mind until one night I saw her hysterectomy scar,
the pale softness above stretched into a mouth –

grimacing at me as if I were the one who opened the skin.

Biographical Statement: