You might recognize them any given day,hundreds of millions all around the world,relaxing in the comforts of their own home,blandly pecking at nibbles and sipping fizz:all you have to do is turn the TV on and zap.You can easily and precisely tell them apartfrom the showy and rowdy rest of humanityswarming out of your sixty-five-inch screenby looking for a few distinguishing features.They have got nothing … Continue reading The Nonexistent by Alessio Zanelli
The sea licks and licks, a metronome,the dull tick tock of nevermore.Her tongue massages the rocky shorehour after hour for centuriesuntil she coughs up a creeperand takes back one of her own. Words are just means to an end,daisies in the chain of ideas,but they have a pull of their ownmagically extracting niblings from the rubble— pickaxes leveraging blood-slick geodes, midwives delivering sprays of orchids. Tuesday dawn, … Continue reading Creeper Wave by Edward Johnson
Perhaps, on the surface, one doesn’t automatically associate the names Joan Didion and Gavin Newsom. Oh sure, they’re both from California and proud to be (well, Didion ultimately seemed prouder of living in New York). And they both have long-standing roots in the state that go back generations (Didion a “fifth-generation” Californian and Newsom a “fourth-generation” one). This being the mark of a “real” Californian … Continue reading The Joan Didion-esque Nature of Gavin Newsom’s Young Man in a Hurry
Just in time for Halloween. Ugly—the new beauty—only a cool billion can buy. I tell myself, given the opportunity, I could be as ugly as any of them with my repetition of chins,up to five today. Horse faces the new standard—topped by a blonde wiglet—as expected— best to be viewed through tinted glass,a tumbler of gin fizz at the ready. Something strange is happening this very moment. True ugly—left eye trained … Continue reading Mar-a-Lago Faces Are Out by Dale Champlin
My phone won’t stop vibrating. I wake up to so many texts with so many pleas desiring gestures of devotion, camaraderie, more devotion and loyalty. The success and survival of so many endeavors hang on the tips of my fingers, no less my tongue. My silence to them is the equivalent of the magistrate remaining absent, hence staying the execution to which they believed themselves … Continue reading How Dare You? by Xavier Jones
Not in the way of a solitary spider, but a more bookish type. My web is a spectral endeavor, a reflection of my personality—the homespun fibers of my existence. Over my morning cup of Earl Grey, I plot the formation of a new friendship. The spinster next door is fair game. Her only drawback: she has a pet mini Doberman, devoid of voice box and … Continue reading I’m a Recluse by Dale Champlin
Hot Stuff.At The Bar.Tiddly Winks.At The Bar.Free Drinks.Free Cigar.Top Shelf.Avatar.Hot StuffLoose LipsRuff RuffNice Tips.Hot Stuff.Taxi Cab.Open Blouse.Grab Bag.Penthouse.Dirty Mag.Your SpouseDressed InDrag.Hot StuffHandcuffsHang ToughCream Puff.Hot Stuff.Pretty Boy.With Your NaughtyNaughtyToy.Did You Dig TheScene? Did YouFlash SomeGreen.Call YourMommy First?Then YourMister Clean? Hot StuffRuff RuffHave You Had Enough? If The Answer’sNo YouCan GetTo Go. Continue reading Hot Stuff by Charlie Robert
No cap, this whole timeline is cringe.My drip is this default skin. My rizz? Gave up and ghosted!I’m just a tryhard mewing at the dust,out here mogging the inevitable. It’s a major L. This house? Highkey Ohio.This aura? Cooked!Heart is salty, blood’s just mid. Bruh.Your own body gives you the ick.I wouldn’t simp for this version of me, fr. The news is pure brainrot.Skibidi politics, … Continue reading The Bottom-of-the-Ninth Vibe Check by Zumwalt
Throughout the twentieth century and for most of the twenty-first thus far, the quest to become famous has remained a common goal among the starry-eyed and attractive (even if only “by small-town standards”). In fact, one could argue it has for so long been presented as the foremost goal not just because of fame’s erstwhile association with wealth, but because “who wouldn’t want their name … Continue reading Rachel Cusk’s Life of M is Less a Takedown of Natalie Portman and More an Illumination of the Hollowness of Celebrity Itself
I’ve met the driver before, the rides are often confusing, destination unknown.What starts out up, ends up down.A walk on soft brioche clouds can turn in an instant into a waterslide of turbulent water.The ride is mostly smooth but dead-ends at a group of uncaring and dispirited buildings.They reek of loss and bad decisions.They feel familiar because they are.But beautiful red and violent paint slowly … Continue reading A Ride With Ketu—This Is Not a Dream by Frankie Laufer
