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Showing results for December, 2017

December 29, 2017 | Poetry

The Coming Anarchy

Manash Firaq Bhattacharjee

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world
~ W.B Yeats, ‘The Second Coming’

One day, your borders shall speak;

Indignant birds will shit on your

December 28, 2017 | Poetry

Five Poems

Spencer Williams

Under the cruel glow of inquiry, I want to tell her that the party is over.

December 27, 2017 | Nonfiction

Mesa, Arizona, 1985

Elizabeth Ellen

By the time I arrived at the Phoenix airport the next summer I was thirty pounds heavier. I’d spent the previous nine months eating vending machine moonpies and packaged cookies in my dorm room.

December 27, 2017 | Fiction

Sun, Miles Away

Stephen Thomas

The sun is a dwarf star 93 million miles away. The Michael Lee-Chin Crystal, a spiky glass appendage that sprouts out of the Royal Ontario Museum’s original brick in downtown Toronto, was unveiled on August 5, 2007. 

December 27, 2017 | Poetry

Four Poems

Kamal E. Kimball

Hurry, tomorrow’s ashen face is at your door.
Hold out your hands, two tiny suns,
you’re more golden than they ever told you.

December 26, 2017 | Nonfiction

A Starting Lineup Baseball Collector's Stand

Aaron Burch

This was the year Canseco was the first to join the 40/40 club, hitting over 40 homeruns and stealing 40 bases in the same season. 

December 26, 2017 | Fiction

Tampopo

Kris Hartrum

It was getting dark outside as me and Naoki walked down the paved footpath of my West Shinjuku neighborhood to the subway. It was rainy, and there were concrete hippos and pigs, and other rusted

December 25, 2017 | Nonfiction

Africa!

Uzodinma Okehi

My grandfather, his English name was Benson. As the houseboys opened the gates, he came out on the balcony and fired off a shotgun, boom, one or two blasts.

December 24, 2017 |

Aladdin

Chloe Caldwell

I remember seeing Aladdin on Christmas Eve with my friend Kylie when I was seven years old.

December 23, 2017 | Nonfiction

The Icicles

Chelsea Martin

I made my mom promise me that she was going to live until she was 100 years old, and I would be 82 and we would die together, peacefully, holding hands. 

December 22, 2017 | Nonfiction

'Twas the Night Before Christmas

Mary Miller

My siblings and I never liked each other as much as we did on those early mornings; we never made a better team. 

December 22, 2017 | Fiction

The Virgin Mary

Adesuwa Agbonile

It doesn’t make the sound that you think it would make. I mean, I figured it would be loud, or top-heavy. But it sounded like almost nothing, like water dripping from a shower faucet three rooms

December 22, 2017 | Poetry

Girl From Uni

Chaya Bhuvaneswar

You’re from the cornfields, I tease, but not really. Your parents, professors at U of Illinois, both versed in the theories of music, both of them concert pianists. They play hushed, reverent duets

December 21, 2017 | Nonfiction

Christmases 

Bud Smith

Carefully open the wrapping paper. Inside is Teddy Ruxbin. See his stupid face on the box. Fuck you, Teddy Ruxbin. He reads you bedtime stories if you put a cassette tape in his abdomen.

December 21, 2017 | Poetry

Three Poems

Amanda Hayes

I grew up in grass but here / everything is bladeless, // hair thinned past feathers, / sheets slick enough to grease a boar.

December 21, 2017 | Fiction

4 Stories

Michael Mungiello

In this one, nothing will happen, like in life, unlike in life, where everything happens.

December 20, 2017 | Nonfiction

Juliet-the-Detective

Juliet Escoria

So a few weeks before that Christmas, I decided to do some detective work. I was interested in science and generally curious ...

December 20, 2017 | Poetry

Two Poems

Kyle Liang

We walk to the edge of the continent / and there in the sand I turn to her and say, / look,
this is where I buried myself 

December 19, 2017 | Nonfiction

The Eve Of X-mas 1994; or thereabouts

Steve Anwyll

So on this X-mas eve. There I was. Sitting in the basement. On an old blue sectional couch. Alone

December 19, 2017 | Poetry

Chupacabra Summer: Seminole, Texas, 1998

Abigail Carl-Klassen

 Most nights we stayed behind, Tweety Bird / pajama shirts stretched over our knees, waist-length hair soaking / our backs as we sat on the floor and thumbed glossy 10mm prints.

December 19, 2017 | Fiction

Sam and Chester

Howard Parsons

They sat on the grassy bank, clothes clinging to their wet bodies, watching the river flow. A few raindrops splashed on the surface, tiny dimples rushed away downstream. Neither of them bothered to point out that it was going to rain.

December 18, 2017 | Fiction

This

Jackson Frons

I stopped drawing stars on my student’s papers. Stars are dying suns shouting out “goodbye!” as they disappear. Why should that signify goodness?

I discovered distant Facebook friends—dead from

December 18, 2017 | Nonfiction

Shooting the Horse

John Bennion

Confessions don’t make good stories. 

December 15, 2017 | Nonfiction

fool's paradise

Alyssa Oursler

 It doesn't take much for a curve to become a coil, for a bridge to become a cage.

December 14, 2017 | Poetry

Side Traxx

Brian Czyzyk

I’m going out
to snag a man. 

December 13, 2017 | Fiction

None of This is a Metaphor

Jane Liddle

I was at a party for the end of the world. I came so I wouldn’t be alone. I guess so did all the other women. They must have known there’d be no men at this party because they wore beautiful

December 12, 2017 | Poetry

Autobiography Inside a Church

Hussain Ahmed

my parents taught me to say ‘surrender’
in a dozen foreign languages.

December 11, 2017 | Fiction

For All My Strangers

Keegan Lester

We were listening to the bombing over the radio while my mother drove me to confirmation class that night.  The radio said We as if America was a bunch of siblings who once shared a bed together.

December 8, 2017 | Fiction

Goodbye Mary, Goodbye Jane

Meghan Phillips

I could take my hands off. Just unlock them at the wrists, snap them off like the heads of artificial flowers. As long as my mouth’s working him, up down up down, he wouldn’t notice if I had no

December 7, 2017 | Nonfiction

Winter in Guayaquil

Jean Ferruzola

That winter my mother takes me to her country, a little place on the equator I had not yet seen.