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Showing results for August, 2016

Autocorrecting The Lyric I photo
August 31, 2016 | Nonfiction

Autocorrecting The Lyric I

Elizabeth Powell

I understand this. This is what made me psychic. This is what makes images arrive on the doorstep with a bindle over the shoulder made of red bandana. Each man is the last man.

WHO STOLE MY TAMPONS????? photo
August 30, 2016 | Dispatches

WHO STOLE MY TAMPONS?????

Chelsea Martin

I got my period the moment we got to the hotel. Getting my period wasn’t going to affect any of my plans, and was no big deal, really, aside from the fact that I refuse to pay attention to my body so am always completely surprised when my period comes. As such, I had brought no supplies to Miami with me.

Slight of Hand photo
August 30, 2016 | Fiction

Slight of Hand

Hilary Leichter

When you lost the third finger, things got out of hand. I didn't know what to say to make it better, and so I made it worse

Eight Scenes from the Life of a Professional Raven photo
August 29, 2016 | Fiction

Eight Scenes from the Life of a Professional Raven

Tom McAllister

When my team scores a touchdown, I have a few seconds in the spotlight to do my dance, to captivate the crowd. I pretend in front of my flock that I don’t enjoy it but I do. I am more vain than I let on

Two Poems photo
August 26, 2016 | Poetry

Two Poems

Michael Wasson

a glass/ bottle containing/ the letter I/ wrote: it starts/ with the birthday/ of your first/ born

Five Poems photo
August 25, 2016 | Poetry

Five Poems

Kylan Rice

I’d’ve led him by the wrist. Still but blinding four pm/ back home blazed against the glass.

Two Poems photo
August 24, 2016 | Poetry

Two Poems

Kate Monica

II. 
A girl and a girl are in love or planning to be.

Girls on Hands and Knees photo
August 23, 2016 | Fiction

Girls on Hands and Knees

Aleyna Rentz

And I would blush and kind of lightly touch his shoulder, saying oh, Robert. Just Robert, because why shouldn’t we be on a first name basis? I’ve read all his poems—I know the man

An Interview With Christopher Boucher photo
August 22, 2016 | Nonfiction, Interview

An Interview With Christopher Boucher

Adam Novy

Christopher Boucher’s new novel, Golden Delicious (Melville House), is a kind of referendum on all we presently hold dear in fiction. Its emotional hold on the reader is very strong, but its avant-garde methods critique those special effects by explaining what they’re doing to your feelings while they do it, which somehow only makes the book more sad.

Three Poems photo
August 19, 2016 | Poetry

Three Poems

Sayuri Ayers

Under haze of junior-prom fog machines,
       my cells pulsed with
              non-senescence

The City of Subdued Excitement Endures Mercury in Retrograde photo
August 18, 2016 | Poetry

The City of Subdued Excitement Endures Mercury in Retrograde

Kat Finch

Your hand had never fully formed, a shadow made of lint & oil. Decades pass, divination is still predicated on how long a candle lasts, how long tea sits in a cup. Coffee? I never touch the stuff.

THE ADDERALL DIARIES photo
August 18, 2016 | movie reviews

THE ADDERALL DIARIES

Sean Kilpatrick

Acting isn’t enough anymore. They should have to hurt themselves.

GHOSTBUSTERS 2016 photo
August 17, 2016 | movie reviews

GHOSTBUSTERS 2016

Sean Kilpatrick

Please don't leave me to my joysticks!

Formerly Dante's photo
August 16, 2016 | Fiction

Formerly Dante's

Kate Jayroe

Mama Vincenzo’s Ristorante Italiano is located in hell

On Failing: Rocky Versus Rambo photo
August 15, 2016 | Nonfiction

On Failing: Rocky Versus Rambo

Carmen Schober

I have a thing for droopy-eyed men.

The President’s 2016 Summer Playlist: Day photo
August 13, 2016 | Jukebox Happy Hour

The President’s 2016 Summer Playlist: Day

Micah Ling

Maybe we need a few more windows-rolled-down drives out to the country with good tunes cranked up

Runnin' With the Devil photo
August 12, 2016 | Poetry

Runnin' With the Devil

W. Todd Kaneko

The last words you will hear in this world/ will be a lie, but when you’re high, you never/ consider how scary Paradise can be/ to snakes

Pin the Tail on the Predator photo
August 11, 2016 | Poetry

Pin the Tail on the Predator

Stevie Edwards

here were girls who sank/ a thousand leagues beneath his hips/ and never bobbed back for air. I came ashore/ in a body of my own, crooked gate/ and piano fingers

Hugs, Handshakes, Goodbyes photo
August 10, 2016 | Fiction

Hugs, Handshakes, Goodbyes

Ashton Politanoff

Bill and Mary were leaving because Mary felt old, when a woman’s hand fell on his shoulder.

3 Poems photo
August 9, 2016 | Poetry

3 Poems

Homeless

A sky
like an enormous
Friedrich Nietzsche-looking
manhole cover
tries to explain your mind
to you.

Grocery Notes photo
August 8, 2016 | Nonfiction

Grocery Notes

Mike Nagel

For the past few years J and I have lived next to a grocery store. It glows at night. If you listen you can hear the hum. 

Two Poems photo
August 5, 2016 | Poetry

Two Poems

Catch Business

i challenge my body/ wearing all white/ i lay down/ only to need to sit up/ i lay down i wish i was/ my own alarm

Cloudburst photo
August 4, 2016 | Nonfiction

Cloudburst

Jaya Wagle

I won’t apologize for trying to forget the days I spent with you, riding pillion on your Honda, inhaling Bombay’s foggy polluted streets, sitting on rickety wooden benches of hole-in-the-wall Indo-Chinese joints, slurping Szechwan noodles and sipping Tom Yum soup, strolling on Juhu’s wet sandy beaches, letting the ocean wash our feet.

Curatorial Skills photo
August 3, 2016 | Poetry

Curatorial Skills

jessie knoles

it is in the museum of three years/ that i hide dog teeth and seashells./ your semen in my belly button that/ i secretly finger in the grocery store/ milk aisle.

Solicitations photo
August 2, 2016 | Fiction

Solicitations

Benjamin Woodard

Two weeks after the scientist’s freak exposure, a man in black arrived at his front step. It was the weekend, and the man in... more

An Interview with Amie Barrodale photo
August 1, 2016 | Interview

An Interview with Amie Barrodale

Michael Deagler

The goal of short fiction is up for debate, but it seems to me that, if a story has a single job, it is to subvert the expectations of the reader.