This month sees publication of our newest print issue, Hobart #15: HOTEL CULTURE. As such, and as we have done to accompany our last few print issues, we are devoting the month to various "bonus

1. She has worn me down over the years

My brother and I found her under a car in Downtown, Los Angeles. She played hard to get at first, meowing loudly but not moving at all. When we were ready

This month sees publication of our newest print issue, Hobart #15: HOTEL CULTURE. As such, and as we have done to accompany our last few print issues, we are devoting the month to various "bonus

And if a man in a dress shirt and sneakers mashing his foreskin upwind during urination upon yonder innocent lass, tweeting, “Soon I will be an integral part of your biography,” isn’t for you, here’s to you. 

This month sees publication of our newest print issue, Hobart #15: HOTEL CULTURE. As such, and as we have done to accompany our last few print issues, we are devoting the month to various "bonus

This month sees publication of our newest print issue, Hobart #15: HOTEL CULTURE. As such, and as we have done to accompany our last few print issues, we are devoting the month to various "bonus

My new Jungian Catholic Worker First Wave Feminist therapist said that only 5% of the population are intellectuals. It seemed like a dubious statistic. It was, I think, meant to compliment me, to

Three people had died on the rollercoaster, each decapitated by a wooden plank. He told her this as the lap bar lowered over them and locked. “Their ghosts haunt the tunnel,” he said, and the

We'd stood in the rain to watch the fireworks, my girlfriend Linda and I, and it was perfect. It was Boston and it was the Fourth of July and even though it had poured buckets the whole time,

Dogshit

There’s grass growing on the dogshit next-door,
under the library mural of the Indian boy

with the salmon colored short-shorts
someone tagged “pardee panties”

the other

If only she'd thought to smash, earlier, the infinitive to destroy never occurred to her, never in this careful home of her planning.

WEDNESDAY

got off the airplane, spencer landed like an hour ago. either he is in the airport waiting to share a cab back to the HTML giant house with me or he already took a bus

A trashbag-blue tattoo of a spider stained her left big toe. D-O-O-M read the tops of her other four toes. She had a taste for chicken nuggets and cocaine and never showed initiative. “Assessory”

Some accounting’s underway, composed of chiding, shifts in tone, redirections. Surely one or two rumors eventually craft a context where they’re true. 

Recently I came across a paper I wrote in college at the prestigious University of Florida in 1999 about vengeful ghosts.

I am so many places
              lonely. I think
I savor it, just me & Canada
boundary water speaking.

The water is not deep here
              but tannin colored,
cold,

They all felt it when the house moved, but only Mae made a sound, something small and guttural, something involuntary and low.

The air in the bedroom sags with mist that won’t touch anything. It hangs around the built-in bed, and stationary lamp, and my sisters and Ma. I can’t be in there. The noises are terrible, and the haze smells like evergreens. It makes me homesick.

I could never / be a girl who wears a bikini top in place of a bra / like all the other girls in South Florida, who put vodka / in their Gatorade bottles and were, I think, much happier...

Mother is sitting in the kitchen with the Bible and a fresh stack of paper. A cigarette smokes in the ashtray and the sink is full of dishes. “It’s not what you think,” I whisper to the boy I have brought home. Later I will suck his thoughts dry. 

Family Album, Romance and Circumstantial Evidence

In one of the last scenes of High Fidelity, John Cusack drinks a beer. Actually, he doesn't. And that's kind of the beauty of it. He treats a beer the way I don't think I've ever seen anyone treat

Bean cures hetero monogamy of squareness

Inside the restaurant two beams of sunlight hit Spencer’s table at seemingly impossible angles. They meet on his butter dish, which has a single olive pit in it. It seems like outside the sun could be doubled.

Once, I heard a boxing coach say you don’t punch a thing if you really want to achieve your objective—which is pure harm—you punch through. Since that day, I have often thought of the other side.