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Showing results for 2022

December 6, 2022 | Fiction

Back to School 2

Matthew Davis

At the head of the conference table sat a man scrolling on his phone, whom Michael intuited was the leader of this secret society. 

November 9, 2022 | Nonfiction

Year of the Buffalo by Aaron Burch: a Review

Elizabeth Ellen

Becca, Ernie’s wife, estranged wife most of the novel until finally she is his ex-wife at the end, based on the author’s, based on Aaron’s, ex-wife, Elizabeth Ellen, who is, oddly, metally, writing these words, typing them into a Word doc at nine in the morning

November 9, 2022 | Nonfiction

MY JUNKIE DREAMS NEVER END IN SHOOTING UP

Christian Bodney

I wake up glad to not be strung out.

I wonder how my drug dealers are doing.

November 9, 2022 | Poetry

3 Poems

Natasha

I ask him if the smoke was from the engine fires
or the buildings collapsing — or both
of course it was both 
We pass Emily Ratajkowski and I try to run back to get a look at her face

October 25, 2022 | Nonfiction

Hierarchy of Fear (most fearful to least fearful*) in the Literary World

Elizabeth Ellen

-Editor at a literary journal attempting to be good, moral ppl (see: 1990s Christian Right)

October 13, 2022 | fucked up modern love essays

Letter from the editor

Elizabeth Ellen

I never wanted to run this ship. Frankly, I’d rather spend my time writing.

October 10, 2022 | Poetry

Party Poems

Miss Unity

The other thing Belle did
Was burn three holes in my thigh
With her cigarette
Revenge for the chaos I’d caused

October 9, 2022 | Fiction

A LOW-HANGING TOWEL

Garielle Lutz

He had a little radio, and on the mornings it snowed, he listened over and over to the lists of school closings until he knew them by heart: Kellerville area, Longstead area, Mount Holly area, all the outlying place-names, all the Our Lady of’s. Sometimes there was only a two-hour delay, and he wondered what it must be like, to have the boon of two extra hours like that.

October 5, 2022 | Poetry

3 poems

Cash Compson

Mouth like the

moon. Until death,

be excited. Déjà vu

you’ve never had.

September 30, 2022 | Fiction

I'm Really Really Really Sorry

Sam Berman

Above the tree line, the sky has turned the color of a day-old bruise. The reception has begun to clear. Whichever uncle had parked his motorcycle in the driveway was now gone.  
 

September 29, 2022 | Interview

Alex Perez on The Iowa Writers’ Workshop, baseball, growing up Cuban-American in Miami & saying goodbye to the literary community

Elizabeth Ellen

What connects people isn’t color or creed or gender or stupid political taxonomies, but the existential despair that comes for us all. How do you respond to that despair once it comes for you? I never feel closer to a person than when they share a piece of their despair with me, and rarely, if ever, does it have anything to do with politics or ideology. It’s always about loneliness or heartbreak or loss, etc. It’s about life. The best art reflects that despair we all face back at us; it doesn’t separate us from other people.

September 29, 2022 | Nonfiction

Can’t remember the last time I had a hard-on

Kristian O'Hare

Now I bake bread to stay busy, to not think about dying.

September 29, 2022 | Fiction

Start Over, But With Luck This Time

Sam Berman

Our dad knew about Surface-to-Air missiles. Our mother knew what we told her.

September 28, 2022 | Fiction

The Beautiful Home of Emma Valdesto

Sam Berman

I’m trying to lose my ego before Coachella.

September 27, 2022 | Poetry

I Could Signal Dominance in Email Correspondence as Trained but the Concept Is Offensive and I’m Baby

Sarah Lyn Rogers

I, I, I, I, the angel speaks herself

September 26, 2022 | Fiction

The Origins of Earth's Second Wave

Lily Arnell

And sure, not all moths were so blindly abiding, but that these grand ideas remained a possibility was often enough to console or comfort the moth. You see, the moth, culturally, was keenly aware of toxic attachments—meaning, they were rigidly open to all possibilities in an effort not to favor one delusion over another.

September 23, 2022 | Poetry

Another Day at the Museum of Forgetfulness

Todd Campbell

I finger a ring of keys and wonder what doors they might unlock.

September 22, 2022 | Nonfiction

Saturday Night

Ellie Lynch

He tells me he bought an ex girlfriend a $500 original copy of The Bell Jar. I say oh wow.

September 20, 2022 |

Best Debut Short Stories 2022: The PEN America Dau Prize INTRODUCTION

Yuka Igarashi & Sarah Lyn Rogers

Celebrating the publication today of this year's Best Debut Short Stories: The PEN America Dau Prize, including—among many other amazing and wonderful and brilliant stories—our very own "Them Bones"

September 20, 2022 | Poetry

I knew a terrible man once

Jennifer E Brown

There I was on Clement Street in the morning, trying to grow another body.

September 19, 2022 | Fiction

The Old Dog and Eternity

Lily Arnell

Sure, he’d miss chewing certain types of wood, the smell of garbage disposal, the indescribable pleasure of being shaded by a tree or large shrub. He could wait until spring, he supposed, to die among the scent of lilacs, one last taste of sweet pansy, a final sting of bee balm.

September 18, 2022 | fucked up modern love essays

I Never Slept In My Bed On Ambien

R. Jones

Hello,

the worst thing about stopping Ambien was that I never did it with anybody else.

I did it alone in my bathtub.

I did it alone, smoking in the water, & when it kicked in I’d let the

September 16, 2022 | Nonfiction

The Doctrine of the Mean

Yejun Chun

As soon as I looked into the faces of my fellow classmates, I realized that we all arrived here by the same road. The most enthusiastic people had their cameras turned off.

September 15, 2022 | Fiction

Three Tales

Tetman Callis

I didn’t hurt him, except maybe his feelings.

September 15, 2022 | Poetry

Sonnet for the Physical Therapist Who Told Me This is Just the Way the Good Lord Made Me 

Billie R. Tadros

It’s a sin,
to desire different architecture, I’m told

September 14, 2022 | Poetry

my beloved forgets how to pray

Anthony Thomas Lombardi

in a cellar not far from here, wine waits years to peak
before a bottle is cracked open only to empty
a bruise.

September 12, 2022 | Poetry

A Toddler Unmakes His Father’s Laundry

Geoff Anderson

Burying me # alive 
in training pants and # rags is my son’s 
# gift of sorts

September 12, 2022 | Fiction

Two Girls

Matilda Lin Berke

Coolness is an anchor, a fortress, a cold and remote puritanism.

September 11, 2022 | fucked up modern love essays

How I Remember It

Sammi LaBue

 

1.

Remember when you would sit on the floor of my lavender painted room when I was 15 and you were 21? You’d twirl a dreadlock around your finger looking up at the wall of Teen People Magazine

September 9, 2022 | Interview

Stir It Up: Katie Gutierrez talks about family recipes, writing with limited childcare, and her new novel More Than You’ll Ever Know

Hannah Grieco

Once upon a time, long before she was on Good Morning America, I met the kindest writer on Twitter. Not only was she a relatable mother-writer, but she also understood Scrivener. This was absolutely