Alex’s Parrot – Sara Brody
Friday, July 17, 2015 16:23 — 0 Comments
I am beginning to worry that my parrot is ill, but he dodges interrogation. I’ll say, “How are you feeling today?†and he’ll say, “How are you feeling today?†I’ll say, “Do you want a Ritz Bit?†and he’ll quote Nietzsche. He once belonged to my brother Alex, who is dead. A lot of people I know are dead. This happened when I was sixteen. That night I sat up in Alex’s room with the parrot, watching the lava lamp. At around three in the morning I tucked the cage under my arm and crept downstairs, intending to take my […]
DEFILING BATHSHEBA – Caleb Powell
Monday, June 15, 2015 11:21 — 0 Comments
“…But the thing that David had done displeased the Lord.†Samuel II: Chapter 11 – Verse 27 Summer, 1985, I read the Bible, smoked pot, and discovered the tale of David. I also committed adultery. Love trumped the letter of the law. I finished high school that June. After a celebration, trashed on hard liquor and pot, I drove my parents’ 1977 Ford LTD station wagon into the trunk of a hemlock at the top of a cliff. Either the Lord or the tree saved my life. The damages: a broken arm, severe concussion, and a deep crimson scar that […]
The President’s Hairdo – Beau Golwitzer
Monday, May 18, 2015 11:09 — 0 Comments
The President came out with a new hairdo. Previously, the President had sported, not by choice, a simple white ribbon of hair wrapped from the left side to the right side of his head. But now the President’s new hairdo was a big, 1950s-style blonde beehive. The first anyone saw of the new hairdo was when the President made an announcement of it in the Rose Garden during a July press conference. He started this announcement by saying, “Do you like my hair?†and then he touched the hair in a dainty little way. The press had a lot […]
WITH NO ASHBERRY BEADS – Valery Petrovskiy
Tuesday, April 14, 2015 11:32 — 0 Comments
We had no fish with us when we came back, so I can just recall woods with red trees on the way home from a stream that day. They said, a fox inhabited the woods then, I wasn’t sure, yet if he were there, one wouldn’t be able to hunt after it in the trees brown, yellow and red.Â
Untitled Rosario Dawson Project – Zac Hill
Monday, April 13, 2015 11:32 — 1 Comment
I had busted out my phone to read the Atlantic article about the woman with two skeletons, which holy fuck, which is why at first I missed her.Â
The Boy in the Car (11th Avenue, Seattle) – Jeff Bender
Tuesday, March 31, 2015 11:21 — 1 Comment
There is a boy in the car. A metal stairway bends the side mirror as the mom backs out of an alley. The mom doesn’t notice the mirror, and the boy in the back watches. The sun bleaches his shirt as they follow a down telephone pole into the intersection.
Write it! – Robert Del Mauro
Tuesday, February 3, 2015 11:39 — 0 Comments
I can hear the white pills crushing. Then it sounds like someone else is inhaling, but I’m the only one here, sitting in my dorm room, listening to Tchaikovsky’s First Concerto. There is a rush of wind and the floor drops from below my feet, taking the chair with it. I’m flying through the air, trying to figure out what happened to the dorm and the Earth and the light. I seem to be falling, or maybe rising. I can’t be floating – the wind is blowing my hair in all different directions.
The Magic Red and Blue Pin – Jim Brantingham
Wednesday, December 10, 2014 11:40 — 1 Comment
I was minding my own business having a quiet beer in a busy tavern. A woman with a strong Russian accent approached me with boxes of jewelry. The jewelry was allegedly made by Russian orphans presumably in Russia. She was an exceptionally beautiful woman with long gorgeous black hair, so I mistakenly engaged her in conversation. I’m a lifelong sucker like that.
Fires – Jason Sposeto
Tuesday, December 2, 2014 11:07 — 2 Comments
Years ago, in another life, I woke to look out the smeared window of a Greyhound bus I had been riding all night. Ahead of us on the horizon, there was a red pinprick of light. We were traveling through the countryside on a long two-lane highway and the night was pitch dark—the light was like a match struck in a basement or the glint off an animal’s eyes as it circles a campfire. Several of the passengers from the opposite side of the bus had gathered around and were looking out at the light. One of them, a large, […]
Leftovers – Joseph Giordano
Wednesday, November 26, 2014 16:25 — 1 Comment
It was a rowdy night at the steakhouse, Groppa del Manzo. Teddy “Sawbuck†Foster invited a dozen colleagues to celebrate his closing the merger of two Fortune 500 companies. Teddy was the firm’s chief investment banker and arbitrage trader; his pores oozed money. He earned his nickname for the daily tip he gave the white-haired grandmother who pushed the coffee cart at the office and buttered his bialy. It was after eleven when I walked outside with a chunk of Dolores Castillo’s New York strip in a doggy bag. I raised a goodbye palm to her and Teddy. We’d lingered […]
The answer isn't poetry, but rather language
- Richard Kenney
