September 10, 2020 | Fiction
Three Shorts
Leah Dawson
Lunar Flesh
Your daughter wraps her arms around your waist and asks, Does everyone have a skeleton inside?
Already dinner is on the table. Brown rice, sticky rice, ginger duck, little saucers
September 9, 2020 | Poetry
Three Poems
Allie Hoback
Desert Dance
I didn’t believe tumbleweeds were real until I saw one
just like ghosts or gods or anything: I’ll believe it when I see it.
Somewhere I fused leaving & searching into the same
September 8, 2020 |
My Name is Kook
Sean O'Neill
It was a year well-lived, but glamorous only in its simplicity– I had 6 roommates, all of us year-long volunteers packed into a one story house, where minus rent and Costco we each earned only $100-a-month in stipend.
September 8, 2020 | Poetry
Late June on the North Side of Town
Tyler Dillow
Late June on the North Side of Town
We are in a paleteria eating lime & chamoy ice cream—
or is it sorbet? On our walk over here we talked
about ginkgo leaves & how they offer the
Throwback
Nora Lange
All the Lovesick attendees were gathered outside to listen to the event’s MC, but he was struggling to figure out how to turn on his mic.
The Dingos
Dane Harrison
Moonlight hiccups through the dirty windows, jumps around on our faces as the truck hits potholes. We’re already gone, smoking cigarettes.
Three Poems
Benjamin DeVos
the only person who texts me is my mom
mostly about how her back hurts
i send her a
proverb that says: you are as old as your spine
she replies: then i must be dead
my mom is always
Is Anyone There?
Hollynn Huitt
It has been two and a half months since I’ve seen anyone other than Evan, my new baby, and my husband, not counting the rotating cast of delivery drivers who balance the occasional jumbo box of diapers on the top of the fence post by the gate.
Swordfishtrombones
Avery Gregurich
I’m behind a snow plow, tonguing salt and exhaust fumes, white-knuckling a compact car, and screaming at a hamper of clean clothes to just keep from crying. Tom Waits is with me, wailing as we swerve, any of these songs seeming appropriate soundtracks to crash quietly into the ditch with.
Ken at the Modern Pharmacy
Jean Pierre Nikuze
He joins the queuing customers. He’d read the overhead menu when he drew closer. In the meantime he’d twiddle with his phone to avoid standing out like a statue. He wraps his scarf loosely around his
My Love Don’t Cost A Thing
Elizabeth Brooks
The night before the Super Bowl, we were drunk in Miami after hours of non-stop tequila Sprites.
Ball Don't Lie
Matt Boyarsky
When we were kids, my sister kicked this boy.
It’s Day Sixteen and I’m Googling Victor Buono
Meghan Louise Wagner
Victor Buono played King Tut in the 1960’s Batman show. He waddled in gold and red robes, his campy lisp at full-tilt. His voice warbled from his gut. He also played the Boston Strangler, a fat man in
American Money
Lynne Beckenstein
The circular is peppered with the “free” of Buy One Get One Free, as opposed to the “free” that is both propaganda and sacred text. I know, in total, the Arabic for peach, name, gesundheit, and thank you.
Left Turns Cause More Deaths
Kathryn Wohlpart
im always in the wrong lane
Room On Fire
Andrew Byrds
And oh god it’s wonderful sitting here, drinking too much coffee, eating too many pastries, and loving everything about this moment.
Revirgination
Greg Marshall
Medical professionals are careful to point out that cerebral palsy itself doesn’t inhibit sexual desire or function, though studies show that most young adults with CP report physical problems related to sexual contact.
The Girl in the Glass Coffin
Megan Culhane Galbraith
I went looking for her. He went looking for her. She went looking for her. They went looking for her.
We all went looking for her.
I look.
You look.
He looks.
She looks.
They look.
We
Heavy Duty
K.B. Thors
An immigrant from the Russian Empire invented jeans...
The Last Set of Mothers
Emily James
Each year, the clouds lowered. Each year, the boys' hopes crept closer to their grasp.
An Honest & Complete Dating Profile
Amie Whittemore
She never sticks around for harvest (though she convinced you to plant rosemary, lavender, zinnias, to think of time as a full moon, as a thrush’s song), you’ll say, but O the planting season. The spry seedlings at the start.
Shards of Glass
Michael Pikna
Arranged in front of Papa were a cup of coffee, his glass eye, and a shot of whiskey. One by one, they would patch him up before he left for work. The sun hadn’t yet chinned the horizon, and we sat




