Desireé Panda and the Lee Van Cleefs

A murder dinner for beckoning.  Let’s have a grave way with phonics.  Let’s tangle bright inside one another.  Holding forks, holding knives.

Come out

Megan Martin is the author of Sparrow & Other Eulogies (Gold Wake 2011). Her work has appeared recently or is forthcoming in Caketrain, >kill author, The Collagist, and la petite zine.  She lives and teaches in Cincinnati.

As a writer, what draws me to wrestlers, superheroes, etc is probably what you pointed out, that when we first encounter them, they are overtly flat characters, cardboard. So I have a chance, even an obligation, to dig in and root around and find the human, expose him or her. Once we see someone else not as a caricature but a person, we can reflect off them, compare ourselves to them, feel empathy or disdain or any of the myriad of human reactions that matter. But we can’t just shrug and go, “Ah, janitor.”

Good evening. I just ate eggs. Breakfast for dinner, is what Robin called it. Is there such a thing as dinner for breakfast? I’m sure some jabony has fired-up a cheeseburger and fries at 8 a.m.,

Let’s follow Holger home, they said, and burn his house down.

We were under the bridge. We were trolls; we were engineers. We were MacGyvering a raft for the rat we’d rescued last night. Clumps

After a couple of Martinis, // one may regard oneself pleasantly pixelated. / I cure nerves with a ten-hour Netflix binge, // then curve my vertebrae to you / while our phones update.

The value of a cash gift is on its face, and that, in some circles, is the value of the giver.  But excuse me, the value of a $130 vegetable peeler is $5.99.

Have you traveled abroad?  I’m sure

comic by Oliver Bendorf

Washer and dryer as hapless duo, / each crashing and beating the other // to shit, idiot tandem: all this / while standing in place.

Carnie lives among piles of porcelain and Tupperware in a storage locker near Conneaut. She lost her job at the prison and then her house was foreclosed upon. Most of the practical things she owned

EVERY DAY IS SUNDAY

I go to call her for the ribs recipe but then I think how she doesn't respond to my jokes so I go to text her instead. And what I say goes like this: you used to make

Stanley K owns a small radio shop on Forest Avenue in Lakewood. 

I walk in, having not seen him in 30 years. 

“Stanley!” I exclaim, “how are you?!” 

“For virtue of your smile, here!” he

18. You will understand and properly use the term “brown out” in every day conversation.

You know him. You love him. He's Gabe Durham. His new book is FUN CAMP and it's a ball.

It's a collection of short monologues, letters, and lists, all from the minds, voices, and pens of

"We’re sorry. We’re not sorry. It was that kind of year, our year in the dumpster, our year in the occult, our year of the amateur séance."

I don’t know why, but until I went to her door our neighbor Marie hadn’t spoken to me in more than a year.  I usually only see her in passing, but when I do she keeps her head low and doesn’t look

For weeks I thought only of this We are a body We will come undone A table of snow and a table of sorrow A tea that smells of a house burned down

They must have been in Georgia already.  Mile-high pine trees loomed just above titanium light poles.  Rain was coming down at the car in a funny, sideways sheet.  Misting over the windshield.  

Accompanied a young couple for the euthanization of their young terrier earlier today. People can be so odd at times.

I’ve set aside some money in the past few months, with no plans for

The following are direct quotes from the lost episode of Breaking Bad.

Summary: This episode, "The Room," depicts the depths of friendships and relationships in one life and raises life's most

NOTE: This is the final of four installments in this series. We will be featuring two hamburger joints at a time. Read previous installments 1, 2 and 3.

ABSTRACT

Within the pages of this

FIRST GINORMOUS MONSTER GIFS DO THEIR GALL ON CITIES LIKE THE CONSTANT PENETRATION WE KNOW WE PARSE AND THEN ROBOTS CHILDREN HAND THEIR SHOES TO FUCK YES THEIR LITTLE SHOES BY COMPARISON TO HOLY

Dear Sir or Madam,

I feel I need to begin by saying I am a longtime lover of your products. As a single mom some days after my shift I know I can stop by and acquire a good amount of your

I consider the narrow chain of cars pulled through city parks like kite-string.  In linguistics, mora is a single unit of syllabic weight.  I consider yelling at the yellow cab to add more syllabic weight to my overall point.

She was The Incorruptible, so named by a senior during the most grueling AP World semester ever. “Just one night off, Ms. L,” whined star student Jasmine, comically sliding halfway to the

At the diner, when David has been allowed to order a cup of coffee and become a thinking person again, he will begin to attempt to isolate the exact point in time when he decided to leave his wife.