Showing results for 2016
Anthony Veasna So
I am reading a poem called “George Washington” in a book of poems called George Washington in a bar called The Library in the Lower East Side of Manhattan where I am spending my last twelve dollars on four beers and my last four dollars on tipping the bartender because happy hour still hasn't started.
Poland = Michigan
piss you one cleaner than your trackshoes, say i / sex toys on lease to i / houses for my centipede, ow / coke that asshole into skinny fleece / clean up with her spate, guy / suck stray dogs in the cock wound, i / lick what your god's got, why / imma mafuckun star boi
Within its pages, the reader is invited to discover those wondrous things that only great short fiction can offer: an abbreviated window into disparate lives, intense and intricate moments of distress and disclosure, completely self-contained and executed in twenty-five pages or less (Deagler on Gustine's Collection).