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Showing results for 2018

March 27, 2018 | Fiction

Cleaning

Glen Pourciau

On my way to somewhere else, I happen to pass my ex-boyfriend Rob’s apartment, months since I’ve seen him, but he’s been showing up in my sleep recently, making me roll and grumble.

March 27, 2018 |

Soundtrack to Ugliness

Rani Neutill

Picture this: It’s 2004. I’m living in Berkeley, California. I swear I am a cool girl. I’m dating a rapper who has had some success. He’s got massive dreadlocks that differentiate him from everyone.

March 26, 2018 | Poetry

Two Poems

Angelo Maneage

Catch fire overtaking

I GOT NOTHING      I HAVE / NOTHING     I HAVE

CHLAMYDIA I GOT FROM

WHAT     YOU / THINK I HAVE

EVERYTHING AND THIS I DON’T

HAVE / NOTHING      I GOT I

GOT I

March 22, 2018 | Fiction

This is Saturday

Leonora Desar

That’s what your parents say when they come in with their Santa suits. But it’s not Saturday. It’s Tuesday. It’s time to go to school.

March 21, 2018 | Interview

John McNally Interview

Bryan Furuness

If I could purchase a lifetime subscription to a living author’s work, I’d subscribe to John McNally. His fiction is engaging and funny, his books on craft are illuminating, and his recent memoir—The

March 20, 2018 | Fiction

Summer

Jenny Wu

I’ve been shipped off to spend the summer with my uncle in Beijing. There is my face in the computer’s reflective meniscus, watching his stocks.

March 19, 2018 | Poetry

Two Poems

Alain Ginsberg

so of course let it greet you fully in the face of your body
and tackle that which sent it into the dust
and rejoice that a body can chill and still chill back.

March 16, 2018 | Nonfiction

Portrait Hall Palimpsest: Storied Houses

Kierstin Bridger

Canvas after canvas I see my life in scenes the artist cannot know.

March 16, 2018 | Fiction

Lucky Numbers

Cavin Bryce

At the age of sixteen I worked a job digging holes. Sometimes it was ditches, other times it was retention ponds.The work was as hard as it was simple. Every evening my boss would slip me a crumpled

March 15, 2018 |

No-Bull Bourbon: Knob Creek

Christopher Newgent

I lost track of Ben while I was married. Seven years. I hadn’t seen Ben in 7 years. Ben refers to those years as my domesticated years. I lost track of a lot of things that were important to me

March 15, 2018 | Poetry

Three poems

Erik Kennedy

I fear being buried alive, but I insist on being buried when I'm dead.

March 14, 2018 | Fiction

Maggie and Her Gusto

Oliver Zarandi

We agreed to meet in a bar known as the ‘anus of the city.’ It had terrible lighting which obscured its ugly regulars. The regulars had heads like onions with names like Fred, Harry, Deborah, Henrietta. Years of drinking had withered their necks to the size of cocktail sticks and I didn’t pity them because I liked hating them.

March 13, 2018 | Interview

on obsession, cigarettes, Chanel bar soap, C. E. Morgan and winter precipitation: an interview with Leesa Cross-Smith

Elizabeth Ellen

Kentucky is chill and for the most part, doesn't try to be something it's not. I feel that way abt myself tbh.

March 13, 2018 | Poetry

Self-guided tours

Lacey Rowland

Self-guided tour: Exhibit #9 from the National Museum of Broken Marriages

A medium says to channel the late wife through beloved objects. I press my ear to a mug, a journal, my husband’s chest.

March 12, 2018 | Fiction

All Women

Rachel Gray

She liked to take care of me and I let her. “Sorry about the bread,” she said, handing me a full plate. “It got soggy.”

We ate in the living room, looking up every once in a while at the screen

March 9, 2018 |

Hinterland Transmissions: All The Makings Of A Real Bad Day

Steve Anwyll

Then I hear it. Loud as the train coming into the station. Fuckinragabagagrrahfuuck. Ah ha. Of course. The unmistakable call of the down and out drunk.

March 9, 2018 | Poetry

10.10.12

Jeanine Walker

Whatever: molecules transform / and become part of my arms, my legs—that’s cool.

March 8, 2018 | Interview

The Places That Hurt: An Interview with Elle Nash

Lauren Grabowski

When I was twelve or thirteen my grandmother gave me a book by art historian and occultist Fred Gettings about the tarot. My grandmother really helped foster my imagination about magic.

March 7, 2018 | Poetry

glossary of coping mechanisms

Jessica Morey-Collins

Glass of Water—

Selves rasp against each other. Mother's little bucket of wisdom tipped over; teacher's sweet girl has curdled. Mere glimpse of the calm hand of an honest femme could heal—cool

March 7, 2018 | Interview

Chen Chen Interview

Daniel Pieczkolon

Most of the time, I am skeptical of the notion that a writer can find his or her voice.  I warn my first-year students against believing the maxim because, to me, it presupposes that every writer

March 6, 2018 |

Wonderful Wonderful

James Gianetti

I turn the knob to the right, bang my hands against the steering wheel, and deafeningly inform the world that I’m out of my cage and doing just fine.

March 6, 2018 | Fiction

Why I Won't Work At The Mill

Nicholas Rys

The main thing about washing dishes at Ronny’s Café is I can come into work pretty fucked up and no one seems to notice—least of all Todd. 

March 5, 2018 | Nonfiction

We Need to Talk

Lauren Grabowski

I immediately remembered the Sex and the City episode where Samantha wants to sleep with the Franciscan priest she refers to as Friar Fuck.

March 5, 2018 | Poetry

Two Poems

Jaime Zuckerman

They

whoever they are they warn freak snowstorms
in spring & weak apple harvests & everyone mutters
certain doom in small talk & watches the news cycle
for the deaths of their

March 2, 2018 | Poetry

Chelsea Martin Poems

Elizabeth Ellen

In these poems I am using ‘Chelsea Martin’ as a pseudonym for someone who is not Chelsea Martin.

March 2, 2018 | Poetry

three poems

Mary Boo Anderson

I've been socialized to be alive / the quiet death of women eating salad

March 1, 2018 | Fiction

Raw Honey

Daniel Le Saint

We talked about a lot of things when we were high. We talked about a lot of things when we were sober, too. 

February 28, 2018 | Poetry

Two Poems

Luis Neer

i have stopped worrying / about being / a robot / version of me / with unfamiliar eyes / but i have other worries

February 27, 2018 | Fiction

Alcoholics

Bud Smith

Dad’s side are all boring fucks. Mom’s side, god—all my mom’s brothers thought they were the outlaw rebel cowboys of New Jersey. Wild ones. Alcoholics. They were fun, while they lasted. All those men

February 26, 2018 | Poetry

Three Poems

Dana Alsamsam

We lie here together, gold in charred hands, / pulling the ash from each other’s hair.