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Showing results for 2017

September 18, 2017 | Fiction

New Mother

Brianna McNish

“I don’t like how her flesh looks,” my daughter tells me. According to Phoebe, this woman has the flesh of a winter peach.

September 15, 2017 | Poetry

Murmuration

ash adams


Before roosting in the city, starlings dive—
five thousand deep in flock. Like cells they follow the
law of localization. Bound by surroundings. Step into a

crowded elevator and take on

September 14, 2017 | Poetry

Two Poems

Larry Narron

BROWSING FOR CHAINSAWS


The carwash that neighbors
the boarded-up hospital
suddenly leaks back to life.
A rust-eaten truck rumbles by,

a keg of insecticide banging
around in the

September 13, 2017 | Fiction

Buddy

Dana Diehl

“We made out once,” my sister says. I thought “I was in love with him for a night.”

September 12, 2017 | Poetry

Two Poems

Katie Foster

All i want is an apple but no one / is picking these days.

September 11, 2017 | Fiction

Exposure

Kat Gonso

My daughter Lisbeth checks Missy’s gums for bleeders. “Sometimes the damage done takes generations to make itself known,” she says, nodding along with her words, agreeing with herself. 

September 8, 2017 | Fiction

Clown College

Sophia Veltfort

By now Lena was supposed to be the version of herself at whom people looked twice, and whom Alec missed, at home, now that they lived together. But she was still just herself, in stockings and hoodie, her face half-done. 

September 7, 2017 |

Death Note / mother! / final movie review

Sean Kilpatrick

Domo

September 7, 2017 | Poetry

After You Texted

Janet Frishberg

and a vague behind-the-eyes tired from reading about destruction until after midnight

September 6, 2017 | Fiction

Mail From The Person You Ate

Jennifer Fliss

At first Margaret went around whispering about the rape. The rape? Her rape? Did she own it? Did she have to keep it? Did she share it? 

September 5, 2017 | Fiction

Four Excerpts from Temporal

Troy James Weaver

Don’t know whether I was really desperate for weed or just plain curious about that dude, Duffy, but for whatever reason, I found myself back at his trailer, on the couch, watching TV and smoking his shit.

September 4, 2017 | Poetry

Two Poems

Mike Soto

[The wind of that dream lasted a horizon]

The wind of that dream lasted a horizon
of years in my stomach, leaving a lone tree

bent in the gesture of listening. That’s why
my hand

September 4, 2017 | Nonfiction

260 Saturdays

Jody Kennedy

We wiped down, scraped, rearranged, shook out, swept, mopped, vacuumed, stripped, waxed, sealed.

August 31, 2017 |

Leisure

Julie Hrudova

 

Welcome to Hobart Photo Stories, a one stop shop for photos that will excite the brain, the eye and the heart.

—Tara Wray, photo editor 

 

 

Julie Hrudova works and lives in

August 31, 2017 | Fiction

Just Fireflies

B.J. Best

Molly liked that the Museum of Light was honest.  Inside every light is a seed of darkness, one interpretive sign began.  It is light’s job to prevent that seed from blooming.  

August 30, 2017 | Interview

Interview with Matthew Neill Null 

Michael Deagler

Southerners think that West Virginia is the north, and northerners think West Virginia is the south. 

August 29, 2017 | Nonfiction

On Burning

Renée Branum

If you are flammable and have legs, you are never blocking a fire exit.

August 28, 2017 | Fiction

Sanguine

Darrin Doyle

No one should become a new parent at my age.

August 28, 2017 |

Hinterland Transmissions: Carnie Love

Steve Anwyll

It must've been the late nineties. I was collecting welfare at the time. I couldn't have been more then 17. Summer vacation was coming to an end. The high school I attended was close to my

August 25, 2017 | Fiction

A partial list of mitigating factors in play

Jacqueline Boucher

  1. you never wanted to be the kind of person who balked when people entered your home without taking off their shoes
August 24, 2017 | Fiction

The Resurgence of Plain

Michael Kaplan

No one even realized Plain could make such a comeback. Years before, it tapered off in grocery stores. Chips. Donuts. Even Coca-Cola. All were taken over by ranch, chocolate, lime. 

August 24, 2017 | Poetry

Three Poems

John Allen Taylor

Today I kiss her knuckles & we lumber home like mammoths.

August 23, 2017 | Nonfiction

Seven Mournings

Alysia Sawchyn

It is not the anniversary of her death that wrecks me but a day some weeks before it. It is the anniversary of the day I sat on my porch, barefoot, polyester graduation trappings in hand, and thought to call her but then did not because I was too busy. 

August 22, 2017 | Poetry

Three Poems

Jen Town

Lyrical lines of color dripping down: a chemical skyline.

August 21, 2017 | Fiction

A Heart and a Half

Gary Joshua Garrison

Out by the park, I say, I’ve got your blood in me, and you look at me funny, like you are waiting for this to be another mediocre joke, and it is, somehow, but I don’t know the punchline yet. 

August 18, 2017 | Fiction

Love Story in the Form of a Taco

Daniel Paul

“Isn’t there something called ‘Pizza’?” I whispered to my girlfriend one night, awake from a dream; she kissed my forehead, her breath heavy with the sweet smell of cilantro, and sent me back to sleep.

August 17, 2017 | Poetry

Performance After the End of the World

Talin Tahajian

The only piece of advice I’ve got for anyone is to shout your precious name into the rain & wait for a response. 

August 17, 2017 |

w h o k i l l 

Elizabeth O’Brien

If this album were a place, it would be a penny candy store: high fructose and courting an overdose. 

 
August 16, 2017 | Nonfiction

An Anatomy of Pipes

Hannah Doyle

I was birthed alongside a digested McMuffin evacuated from a parallel pipe—my mother’s last pre-labor meal. She opted for a natural birth, taking only an aspirin, never uttering a complaint.

August 16, 2017 |

War on Everyone

Sean Kilpatrick

"Don't tuck your art in." Jamie Foxx