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The Opiate Books Presents Lindsay Lohan Stole My Life: A Satire of the 00s

The book that was too hot to handle in Hollywood and all other mainstream locales (basically just leaving Italy, where scandal is sacrosanct and nobody reads anyway). Find out the truth about the 00s and the butterfly effect of Lindsay Lohan not only on our current Kardashian-Jenner driven culture, but on ex-socialite and underdog Tate Carmichael. Buy a tangible copy online at Bookshop.org here. Or … Continue reading The Opiate Books Presents Lindsay Lohan Stole My Life: A Satire of the 00s

On Finding an Obituary for My Sixth-Grade Teacher by Meredith Davies Hadaway

for Mrs. Slover I imagine you still at your desk, a little sweaty as you always were, reading aloud to us each morning instead of silent prayer.  Gravel-voiced, a blonde from Northern Italy, you were tough, demanding, even brutalin your honest way. No time for coddling  or excuses. We adored you. Awkward,shy, class clown, stutterer, or swaggerer—you gave us each an equal shot at sixth-grade greatness. I used to … Continue reading On Finding an Obituary for My Sixth-Grade Teacher by Meredith Davies Hadaway

What was not said by Cristian Pop

Oath in the night that is quest for the silencenot isolation but reigning from afar on one’s expectations,praise the hours that gave moments to build out of nothingwith recipes written in cold running water,ode to renouncement when knitting vague feelingsas the cure for the lonely is walking away… Why stay in a present when so many futures awaitbut out of deception and fear of the … Continue reading What was not said by Cristian Pop

Unfinished* by Victor Marrero

1       He carved what he carved and left them, just as they are. And so they stayed from that moment on. Untouched. Undone. Four figureson display model, a mold cast aside. Their striking postures style mastery unbounded by matter or mind, immured to imperfection.  The coarse-grain stones languished in the rough, imprisoned in solid vaults quarried from their native rock while the master lived and worked … Continue reading Unfinished* by Victor Marrero

The Shock of the Now by John Grey

I learn of your death in the newspaper obits.No facts. Just names of family.But died at thirty-two is a fact unto its own.Unlike ninety-three or eighty-five,the years a woman expects to get. It doesn’t say suicidethough the last poem I read of yours did.Nor is there mention of an accident.Or some deadly sickness.The first, I could believe.Even on the road, you sometimesused your heart for … Continue reading The Shock of the Now by John Grey

Irony Overload: Grimes Reading The Communist Manifesto

People do all sorts of things to cope after a breakup. Get drunk, take drugs, have sex with random strangers—anything to numb the pain and forget about the ex in question, even just for a little while. But one coping mechanism that few engage in (except in a highly specific scenario such as Grimes’) is the decision to read The Communist Manifesto. Or “read” it, more accurately. Obviously … Continue reading Irony Overload: Grimes Reading The Communist Manifesto

Outrage by Xavier Jones

“Anything in your pockets we should know about?”I wish I could have said “My pen”If they ever read this I’ll bet they’ll wishThey actually had the order of the public prosecutor to stop and frisk Three against one, but unassailable in my innocenceAll of us wearing masks to protect ourselves from one virusAnd yet three germs from another surround meI knew I would never know … Continue reading Outrage by Xavier Jones

Hope Everlasting by Anna Kapungu

I miss every second you walked out of my doorThe time we spentTears of hilarity You were the cupid to my heartCupid to this state of mindHappiness drove us aboundI shone like the moonlightFire was the spirit within usEndless, those were the days with youStill I sit and wait for your return Sit and wait for your returnTales of the forces that drove us apartNature never seemed … Continue reading Hope Everlasting by Anna Kapungu

The Genie and I by John Grey

It’s not really a lamp.more of an urn,but it’s old,its body egg-shaped,its neck pencil-narrow.  No doubt somegenie is imprisoned within. But I’m reluctant to rub it.I know what happens.That Jinn emerges,promises to fulfill three wishes but tricks me, in my eagerness,to say the wrong thing,turn my requests back on myself,as it loudly laughs its way to freedom. I’ve no need for greedthat oversteps its bounds,desires that masquerades as wants,dreams … Continue reading The Genie and I by John Grey