This Is What That Means
Maggie Donohue
I snapped back into it at the bar. I’d been there the whole time, of course, but I hadn’t really acknowledged it, and I took in the room and the situation like crawling out of a ditch. Billy was
It’s called The Panda Barn, where you can go and it’ll just be rows and rows of beds
Sean Kilpatrick: If you and I could be said to exist outside ye old literary camps, and I think our flags remain hygienic because I don’t leave the house and you’re too good at what you do, also
I snapped back into it at the bar. I’d been there the whole time, of course, but I hadn’t really acknowledged it, and I took in the room and the situation like crawling out of a ditch. Billy was
The Day Shirley Temple Died
I remembered I was a bad mother. I called up my son, a bellboy in a fancy Las Vegas hotel, I wanted to apologize, patch things up. Redemption is a thing I believe
The next three and a half or four minutes will be used to draw conclusions on the relevance and authenticity of Christmas based on self reflexivity by using photographs of Cheryl Ann during the days leading up to Christmas.
You know shit’s over when they flunk a nihilist out of the suckass pedagogy for bringing too much optimism.
Following his debut collection, Rabbit Punches (Low Fidelity Press, 2006), Neighbors of Nothing (Dzanc, 2013) marks Jason Ockert’s triumphant return to the press, offering ten distinctly original
Humans learn occlusion on their way out of infancy—the ability to grasp that the toy still exists when it’s under the blanket...
inhabited a square-foot ghetto in Austin, cute by standards of being raised south of 8 mile, upside Detroit’s unfair putty
I
i dedicate this poem
to the first 15 years
of the twenty first century.
it's name is "citrus".
i call it that
because I can't remember
its real name,
or anything else
That was the night Gabby and I drank the bottle of bourbon next to the makolet.
In America, we call them mini-marts, but in Israeli outskirts,
we call them makolets --
until we can’t form the
Jenny Offill is the author of Last Things, and most recently, Dept. of Speculation. In the words of Michael Cunningham, “Jenny Offill’s Dept. of Speculation resembles no book I’ve read before. If
I sat in my chair and stared at her.
I have developed the habit
of staring at the hands
of people standing next to me on the train
We took a bus down to Dallas, TX, probably forty or fifty of us, and spent the night praying for our families in a large hotel room.
It was obvious to me that you needed to talk, and I was there to listen and record.
Make a vision board
Watch Girl, Interrupted
Eat more protein
I
I wake up one morning and want to read Woolf. Being a woman writer. Is being a woman-who-is-a-writer something to consider, or. Yet it is not the gender really but the closeness to the skin,
I won’t front about Jarmusch. He’s cooler than my ability to describe shit. He’s our genuinely cool filmmaker, anachronistic above ideal, an atavist with perfect hair. He’s the reason people should