Tag: 41.2

Service

I do and do not know how it came to this. Earlier today, he trapped a squirrel in his yard. He put the trap in the cab of his truck, put a blanket over the trap so the animal wouldn’t be...

Read More

from GLOCK CHORUS

Poetry Joyelle McSweeney

My target’s face it was pockmarked

tho hidden by a sack of ice

tho hidden like a crooked account book

fell open where the hammer hit twice...

Read More

Group Dynamics

Connor walked over to the glass double-doors of Jackie Jump-Up’s and searched inside for a glimpse of Suzie. He could make out the outlines of the mechanical animal band, still and silent after an...

Read More

Shoplifting

First, find a tube of lipstick—a good color for you, sure, but more importantly one that fits your palm and pocket. Pick it up. Pick up some eye shadow, mascara, lip gloss—whatever. Survey...

Read More

The Case Against Dr. Smetana

-Dr. Smetana teaches no courses. In his entire tenure, he has taught exactly one: a Fall 2002 introductory survey titled “Eromathematics: Machines in Love.” The department file lists twelve...

Read More

Otron and His Dark Horse

Sometimes, I feel like writing my own obituary. I grab hold of a bottle and spin in circles, the living room’s recessed lighting hiding the wrinkles on my sleep deprived face. Later, I jump off the...

Read More

[obscenity for the advancement of poetry #6]

Poetry kathryn l. pringle

there’s a stitch in my rib it is mobile it has been there for a week it is hard not to lie

down with a stitch / secure all the rooms / sleep in front...

Read More

Daydreamt

Without smoke, you fill my throat with smoke. I taste the flames shimmy across my tongue’s meridian. You are not one of the tastes it is programmed to process. You replace my breath. I exhale you...

Read More

ANNUNCIATION

Too alive to it, too aware of it. How it fits in mine but does not resemble my own. An animal’s hand. The one thing no one else wanted. She asks me to help her and her idiot son down the wet...

Read More

from SORROW ARROW

Poetry Emily Kendal Frey

You are stringing arrows by a lilac bush

Every time I forget a person my body apologizes

Bad night of dreaming

The rows of devils thick as trash...

Read More