December 16, 2014 | Fiction
No Room for Discontent
Olga Zilberbourg
Four decades after breaking off our high school romance, we found each other again, I, Phillip, twenty-five years into my second marriage, and I, Lily, divorced.
December 15, 2014 | Nonfiction
#Nightshift: "Just One Arrow" (Excerpts from an Instagram Essay)
Jeff Sharlet
“For years after the war and after the camps, Chava Rosenfarb woke up every morning at 4:00 a.m. to write. She’d open her eyes in the darkness and slip out of bed without waking her husband...
December 12, 2014 | Nonfiction
Our Doubles, Ourselves: Twin Peaks and My Summer at the Black Lodge
Linnie Greene
And then I found her on a VHS. My double, my twin, my doppelganger. Laura Palmer.
Not This Town
Tina V. Cabrera
The fact that it happened at the town's polar bear research station is irrelevant. A polar bear didn't kill the child.
#Nightshift: Mugshot (Excerpts from an Instagram Essay)
Jeff Sharlet
Sunday paper. Card Showers announced for Cecile Jarry, 99, and Fred Aldrich, 90. Meeting of the Sherlock Holmes Club this Wednesday.
The Painter's Delay
Matt Bell
The parents were not without greed, and so the younger painted, and as she painted the painting changed.
Two Pokémon: Bulbasaur & Eevee
Colette Arrand
“An extremely rare Pokémon that may evolve in a number of different ways depending on stimuli.” – Pokémon FireRed
Thieving
Nina Boutsikaris
What we liked to do that fall—once mornings had grown thin around the edges, the sun sheer like white linen and gone by four o’clock—was to put on eyeliner and these old fur stoles she had collected from thrift store heaps...
Dead Poet, No Fun
Caitlin Barasch
On the night I left your apartment, my phone died.
A GHETTO-LIKE STATE OF INCOMPLETENESS: MY STRUGGLE WITH MY STRUGGLE, BOOK 3
Andrew Bomback
Against what, exactly, is Karl Ove Knausgaard struggling?
Yeah so I’m a turkey so what
Stowell Watters
I’m a symbol of an America newly forged and I live with like 1000 other turkeys in a yard Who gives a shit
Whiplash
Sean Kilpatrick
Is Chekov why I’m so sad? I’ll give you twenty bucks for a plot in literature that acknowledges his talent, but ignores him slightly more.
3 Poems for Alix Tichelman
Janey Smith
Opus 53
Place the palms of your hands side by side on this wine glass. After a short time, raise your hands and place your eyes at the same level as your palms.
Notice the possible and
What I Could Buy
Leslie Pietrzyk
What I could buy with the insurance money they gave me when you died:
One Ferrari, red or black, assuming V-8 instead of V-12, assuming premium gas, assuming insurance, assuming no major
The God of the Living Room
Paul Luikart
I’m in Tom's apartment staring at the big deer head he has hanging on the wall of his living room. Tom has a small place and the deer head looks enormous. Some kind of giant, mutant deer, like it's
OXYMORON #FAMOUSPOET
Donald Vincent
- after Directing Herbert White / Writing Ellen West
When James Franco first spoke to me, he said, “Oh, shit. You’re Mr. Hip. We were just talking about you before the reading.”
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My Dog Is My Girlfriend
Jordan Castro
My feelings of purposelessness and inadequacy vanished. My feelings of self-pity and despair were replaced by love and affection. No more sleeping around. No more yearning for The One. I had found Her. She was here.
The Star Trek Essay
Amanda Goldblatt
This essay is not about Star Trek in the way that Star Trek is not about space.
5 Prose Poems
Sean Rys
Woodcutter
It started when you dreamed you were dead & I had to go looking in other rooms for your body. Turned on each light & either I found you or it was apparent by then that
How I Spent My Summer Vacation
Andrew M. Howard
She asks me to tell her a story. Almost every night she can’t sleep. I’m no storyteller, I’ll say, and at first I would start off with robots and fantastic bears, trying to make my own Where the
Mathematics IIIIIIIIIII-IIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Timothy Wojcik
Mathematics IIIIIIIIIII
A miracle trapped in a fur coat. A fur coat trapped in its original body.
Mathematically speaking, the body is made up of four essential parts: the arms, the ideas,
Grand Army of the Republic Highway
Jacob White
I am driving through the hill country when I spot up ahead, in the dip between two hills, this young buck with his thumb out, sleeveless, flaunting the white underside of a supple tanned bicep
Him or His Brother
Anna Lea Jancewicz
I was wearing white lipstick when I pressed a kiss onto the dirty window in the back corner of his mother’s garage, pasting spider silk and bone-colored dust to the glass. I left that mark to be