If you read my review of The Vein ...
A Sanguine Trip
you will get an expanded statement of what I will simply abbreviate here: this is a raw, dark quality journal run by an editor on the edge. An editor who uses courage as a shield against insanity. When I wrote the poems that appear in the current issue of The Vein (“Hit” and “Booby Trapped”) I entered a state of near insanity. The pain was so great. I suspect other contributors wrote with blood from their arms too. That’s what I’m talking about.
Issue X of The Vein appears without any fanfare. No intro, no frills, no presence of the editor. Nothing except the writing and a blood-red backdrop. This makes me worry about whether the zine will continue. I hope it does. It ought to. There are so few fountains of this kind of honesty left. And this editor (anonymous) has a chance at being truly great.