Des scènes d’un match de foot by Xavier Jones

Le ventre de la Place de la Révolution s’était rempli par des masses parisiennes assoiffées de justice. Ce jour froid de janvier, ils boiraient chaud. Mais ce jour-là, la boisson serait épicée d’un ingrédient inconnu depuis l’ascension des premiers rois d’histoire: l’égalité. Le devoir ne s’est fait ni sans hésitation, ni avec un zèle sanguinaire non plus. La seule espèce de cérémonie, le roulement insolent … Continue reading Des scènes d’un match de foot by Xavier Jones

New Mexico Finally Gets a Hardboiled Detective in Max Talley’s Santa Fe Psychosis

When it comes to the noir genre as it pertains to place, perhaps one still immediately thinks of Raymond Chandler and his macabre view of Los Angeles as seen through the lens of Philip Marlowe. Then, of course, there’s always the archetypal curmudgeonly detective of the East Coast, usually (and vexingly) based in New York. But few authors, if any, have dared to set their … Continue reading New Mexico Finally Gets a Hardboiled Detective in Max Talley’s Santa Fe Psychosis

When You Are On the Menu by Antonia Alexandra Klimenko

It begins with an itch  then another   and another– those screaming red eruptions  on arms   legs    and unmentionables (Isn’t life a bitch!) the tell-tale sign of corruption– bloodstains on your pillow the viscous film of wet dream on your shrinking fitted sheets   Who are they?  these creeps these mites   small flat parasites   big appetites that live in dark places   alleyways   hidden spaces who feed off you   in excess before they retire to the comfort of your bed where they enjoy easy access   Yum while you lay … Continue reading When You Are On the Menu by Antonia Alexandra Klimenko

Why I Am Not A Scientist by John Jack Jackie (Edward) Cooper

It’s what I’m for,and everything else against;  interwoven along the cosmic fence,sovereign principle in action:  what is shall always remain,although invisible.  I can see —but feeling believe I know.  Love bears the whole through a universeeveryone bleeds.  What is must remain,even though unrepeatable:  only world, only soul;only heart ever possible to acquire  or acquaint—statement of the obvious,tipped toward the point of oblivion,  which every science … Continue reading Why I Am Not A Scientist by John Jack Jackie (Edward) Cooper

Making the Bed by Dale Champlin

I fold the duvet the way my mother ironed my father’s shirts.You could tell she wanted him to love her for it. Bed is my nirvana—softand feathery as a push-up bra I fluff up the pillows—recall last night’s catastrophe. That’s why I don’t want to remember dreams. They can be disturbing.Wakefulness is the planet I count on,my mother blood. Now that my father is deadmy mother no longer irons … Continue reading Making the Bed by Dale Champlin

Best Legs in the Baptist Church by Dana Miller

this generation longs so to be famousnot knowingcelebrity loses a certain something under the flash of your own cameranot seeingI only steal because I cannot appreciate anything until it is my own Do you twig? you can have the best legs in the whole Baptist churchyou can watch them try not to sigh and lurchin your direction it’s God’s will they should look awaysomething more … Continue reading Best Legs in the Baptist Church by Dana Miller

Marmaduchess by Dana Miller

I could smell fame and greatness coming since I was the smallest child.I was never built for your tiny version of events.I smelled the potions in the dew, The spell-telling roses twining round the terebinth, teashur and tamarisk trees… All the verve the Vivacaine had lent—couldn’t half match me.And yet here I am, holding all your hours…And here I am, Ophelia fresh out of flowers… Be … Continue reading Marmaduchess by Dana Miller

Follower by Emma Jo Black

they started following you a couple weeks agoyou were eating chia seeds for breakfast and they liked itfrom then on, you took them everywhere you went in your pocketand you felt a little less alone your followers came with you to the supermarketwatched you pick out a zero plastic toothbrushthey lay beside you on your pillow as you whispered in the darkgrowing closer with every story you shared you … Continue reading Follower by Emma Jo Black

One Swollen Day by Suzanne O’Connell

I reach for him.My hand extends,touches a blank wall.Shadows streak across it like puppets striking each otherwith kitchen implements.I glimpse a spinal columnin the shallow end of the pond.I reach again, not to save, but to touch.We are two opposing waters,waves in between.I remember him as a troubadour,but I no longer hear his music. I have reached the day’s midsection,a day once swollen with possibilities,now an … Continue reading One Swollen Day by Suzanne O’Connell