catch leaves as they blow ghostly down the decaying drive. count insects dying in spun webs across the fence of the asylum. look for circles branded on souls of the feet from holy shoes. ignore the papers on posts sharing false news. distain the blood on the boulevard, last slice of life, all under a sickly, orange moon. scream confessions into the dark void of … Continue reading Blow Ghostly by S.A. Gerber
As the definition of what constitutes great literature–or even literature–changes with the advancement of time, it’s likely that the graphic novel could (and already has been, at least in filmic adaptation ratios) be vindicated in terms of how people perceive it as more than merely a medium for the, let’s be candid, “not getting laid” demographic. From Frank Miller’s Sin City to Guy Ritchie’s Gamekeeper, the … Continue reading Nothing Short-Sighted About Richard Dent’s Myopia: An Interview
We dance and sing Jackson’s Thriller, attempting to rile the black whore cracked out against the trestle fencing. Camera full zoom, she yells “Ya’ll niggas on some anti-horny shit!” My buddy and I buckle in laughter. “Don’t be deceived,” I tell the viewer. “Our subject, species toothless-wonder, is not just spewing nonsense here. This is an attempt to attack us for not treating her as … Continue reading Nature Channel Narrator by M. A. Istvan Jr.
Justine is a novel that, in addition to being a part of a larger tableau–specifically The Alexandria Quartet–defies what most enthusiasts of literature have come to rely upon in depictions of love: that it lasts forever, that it can’t be broken or altered by what Days of Our Lives calls the sands of time. In the era that is now, it’s easy to be jaded about … Continue reading Lawrence Durrell’s Justine: A Cynical, If Not Clinical, Meditation on Love
She has carefully washed her face and dressed for the day. She is attentive while I check her arithmetic for neatly labeled solutions, probably telling her to show her work because that’s what I say to everyone. She has a large python that she brought to school once. She stands up straight at the corner of my desk cleared off for her work. The rest … Continue reading Lydia by Craig Evenson