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Showing results for 2019

December 30, 2019 | Nonfiction

Two Micros 

Dina L. Relles

"with sky as ceiling, / ground as home, / we can call the stranger / lover / and the earth / ours / at least for a little while." 

December 30, 2019 | Poetry

Three Poems 

Dujie Tahat

salat to define the terms of ritual


A calling, a culling, a billowing
minaret banner, a cigarette starter thrown
out a moving car window to prove a point.


December 27, 2019 | Poetry

No Ducks Were Harmed in the Writing of this Poem

Daniel Paul

I dreamed we were in a department store trying to buy you shoes.

December 27, 2019 | Fiction

Hot Sand In My Mouth: A Found Piece from Craigslist

p.e. garcia

This was months ago. April, maybe May. The weather was foggy. So was my brain. I saw you again in the Cubism section. I was standing in front of “The Actor” by Picasso. The second I saw you, I smiled

December 26, 2019 | Nonfiction

People Like Me Don’t Live A Long Time

Steve Anwyll

Take a percocet at around 4:30pm.

Eat a large weed cookie, drink 1 750ml can of beer and then 3 pints between 6:30pm and 10:00pm.

December 26, 2019 | Fiction

The White, White Light of It

Kirsten Larson

"You won’t let me love you, so I am loving this plant,” he says.

December 23, 2019 | Fiction


Matt Boyarsky

We do Christmas Eve at our mom’s.

December 23, 2019 | Fiction

A Pretty Good Cowboy

Megan Premo

People used to tell my father they looked alike, he and Bruce, and I suppose it was true.

December 21, 2019 | Fiction

This Mom I Know

Lisa Lerner

Betty's son Jonah is convulsing in the kitchen and there are fifty ways he could die.

December 20, 2019 | Poetry

Three Poems 

Dustin Pearson

My Brother’s Two Screams 

I heard two screams from my bedroom. Outside,
my brother had killed his best friend. That day 
the clouds stayed put. The trees swayed under 
gentle winds, but not

December 19, 2019 | Poetry

Three Poems 

Nora Claire Miller


I am a girl named older. I get in the way
of my own sleeping. Not being average
like that house, full of triangular
objects, where I only know two
animals, a fish and a

December 18, 2019 | Poetry

Ceres in the Uncreation

Anne Barngrover

I tried to write a warning
                            in chaste trees and pumpkin vines:
the worst men of our lives will return 
                to us in more ways than one.


December 18, 2019 | Fiction

New Decay

Cassidy McFadzean

He tells me I have a lot of fear. He tells me I have a lot of hurt. He says someone really did a number on me, that I’m a really hurt person. 

December 17, 2019 | Nonfiction


D. Nolan Jefferson

You preheat your oven to 425°F before measuring out two and one third cups of self-rising flour into a glass Pyrex bowl. White Lily is the best though it can be hard to find outside of the south and is worth tracking down. It’s milled from a soft winter wheat, and with it your biscuits puff up into soft, light pillows that literally melt in your mouth.

December 17, 2019 | Poetry

Two Poems 

Miguel Murphy


In the courtyard, 
The last heir,

black-haired and naked
before dawn; 

starlight through the bare 
branches of the banyan 
fucking whistling—

he’s opened

December 17, 2019 | Fiction


Caroline Knecht

I was in my third year of high school and I felt apocalyptic. Mine was a violent kind of nihilism. I spent a lot of time seething.

December 16, 2019 | Poetry

Here is longing

Sanna Wani

here is my chest here is where I remember longing has not visited me in a long time longing who I let inside me longing who I let cut my hair with old scissors longing who feels my feet swell and

December 13, 2019 | Poetry

I Threw in an Extra Fuck 

Leah Umansky

                     for virginia

I threw in an extra fuck because it’s spring

I threw in an extra fuck because the long before is here

I threw in an extra fuck because the riveting scene is

December 13, 2019 | Fiction

Instant Legend

Kevin M. Kearney

"He’s trying to tell you that he’s cool,” Jay said. “He’d probably buy us beer.”

December 12, 2019 | Nonfiction

Instagram Intimacy 

Lyndsay Hall

Every twenty-something in Los Angeles has a comedian friend. In late winter, mine invited me to his show in Culver City with a foolproof pitch: no cover, no drink minimum, nearby parking.

December 12, 2019 | Poetry

Ghosts in Empty Houses

Sneha Subramanian Kanta

Ghosts remove fishhooks from animal bodies
in the desolation outside an empty house.

Somewhere between a fortress & forest
cicadas shed skin & leave exoskeletons

on tree barks.

December 11, 2019 | Fiction


Carla Sarett

I guess Steve felt if we were "together-together," I'd watch every film he liked, hang on his every word, which I didn't even do for my husband who wasn't passionate about anything.

December 10, 2019 | Nonfiction

This Must Be The Place 

Emily O'Neill

There’s no room that’s mine. This thought occurred to me plenty as a child, but it was a fact without any emotion attached. I think about it especially when I watch house hunting shows: what a wish list looks like for people who get to choose where they live on purpose.

December 9, 2019 | Nonfiction

Leg Warmer

Jaya Wagle

The first time a boy accidently touches your leg you are fourteen—

December 6, 2019 | Poetry


Joanna C. Valente

i don't know how to manage time
the same way i manage my 

away from men
and their hands and their will and their need

to take me when i'm choosing eggs, when i'm walking
to the bus,

December 5, 2019 | Nonfiction


Hope Henderson

I had anted up already: pics in the too-small bikini top he liked, back arched in his favorite Brazilian-cut bottoms. Did you just take these for me? he asked. By your mid-30s, romance is infinite regress. Or infinite repeat. Or just infinite, like Groundhog Day, or samsara. I don’t reuse sexts! I replied. This is romantic. We understand this is romantic. It is, in fact, romantic to take pictures just for him.


December 4, 2019 | Poetry

A Brief History of Motivations

Jenny Irish

The predominant inquisitor of women accused of witchcraft, it is theorized, was a sadist with acousticophilia: a fetishist aroused by the infliction of pain, humiliation and their associated

December 4, 2019 | Fiction


Elizabeth Victoria Aldrich

She crushes up some blow with a MAC compact and does a line, her anger switching off instantly. She resurfaces on a genial plateau of euphoric haze.

December 3, 2019 |


Corey Miller

As a 10-year-old boy I found ways to explore. Moisturizing with lotion helped. 

December 3, 2019 | Nonfiction

We Fat Ourselves For Maggots

Lena Crown

One evening when I was fifteen, back in 2009, my ballet teacher arrived at the studio wearing a shit-eating grin. Jeff loved to gossip, and he spoke with a showy Southern twang that made the juice of every secret dribble down our fingers.