The door opened and they introduced themselves. “How far you going?” Al said, glancing over at his passenger, a kid, no more than twenty-five. “Trying to get to Los Angeles,” Jimmy said. “I can take you as far as Albuquerque.” “Every little bit helps.” “Where you from?” “Tucumcari,” Jimmy said. The word made Al tingle. “Never been there,” he said. “Hot. All the time hot.” … Continue reading West on 40 by Lisa Attanasio
the world is one filthy and violent orgy pretending to be respectable, controlled and orderly while humiliating those who are less favoured and fortunate labelled as failures, evil and stupid for not winning the game that the house ultimately wins cannot lose when inheriting rules that effectively weigh the coin toward heads promised lands the minority view as possessing and owning by merit while everyone … Continue reading Very Convenient by Mark Tucker
My foolishness has no borders stupidly sneaking into everything even when I have tried to control it my foolishness just stares and laughs until I lose consciousness. As soon as I awaken it arrives to immediately start singing rap lyrics in an irritating operatic voice until we catch the 6am and my foolishness turns his attention to innocent commuters and their own unique brand of … Continue reading My Foolishness by Mark Tucker
Deft and merciless in her portrayal of humanity, Patricia Highsmith is little remembered for her short stories so much as her most famous character, Tom Ripley of the semi-eponymous The Talented Mr. Ripley and, more recently, The Price of Salt thanks to its film adaptation into Carol. But with the release of her taut short story collection, Little Tales of Misogyny, in 1977 (in Germany first, … Continue reading Every Man Is A Victim of the Female Caricature in Patricia Highsmith’s Little Tales of Misogyny
They’re trying to get in. Shoving the air out of the way, tugging at my trellis. They think they are pretty charming, flouncing in spring frills, disguising their desire with pink cot pastel. Can’t they see what they look like? Tarts like them don’t care. Indecorous. Pushing their frou frou. Too many petals. I know they are “only nature”. But let them in? They would … Continue reading Street Cherries by Jude Cowan Montague
it’s surpassed “vicarious,” “envious” it’s idle, mild, but consistent, hence murderous putting away of the current decaying of the self amnesia of the present the lens into others others’ moments others’ othering, momentous mirage a collage that supports the party of Beauty, Wealth, Intelligence summer nights are the best time to narrate your Stories the dance of your body and infidelity youths exchange in the … Continue reading Instantly Self-Reductive Hologram by Katherine Chan
On a day-off, Papa, after his breakfast, opens the fridge and reaches for a half-empty bottle of wine. Then a half-full pot of flour. I clear the table, as I am to help. By now, I know the drill: Papa turns on the radio, finds himself a glass and pours halfway, humming a tune in unison with his favorite station. I roll out the bread-making … Continue reading Wine Bread by Thibaut Narme
Aaron Poochigian, it is said, is the holder of many degrees, including one of those MFAs in Poetry and a Classics PhD. That being said, the genre of his debut employs the aforementioned acquirements in that it’s a verse novel combining elements of noir and mythology–you know, to put all that education and knowledge to good use. Poochigian is a very nice man, he can … Continue reading In Between Poetry & Fiction: Aaron Poochigan’s Mr. Either/Or by Zeke Greenwald
Bouncing around is the sisterhood of infancy Up and down in amity Saturdays offer endless possibilities And the backyard is for our flying toys From March to October And Dad sets up a pool in summer, when it’s really warm I bounce everyday, whenever I can Even when Sister doesn’t And sometimes, I see the bigger one on the side stairs, going about, or hanging … Continue reading Child Neighbor by Thibaut Narme
When my father began rowing the boat, I felt a surge of excitement. “Dad! How long will it take to get there?” “Maybe an hour.” “Oh. This water looks really deep.” “It is. I believe it goes down to around five-hundred feet in some places.” “Wow! Are there any monsters in the lake?” “Ernest, that’s just in fiction. Monsters only live in the imagination.” “Do … Continue reading Monster in the Lake by Paul Kindlon
