The North Side
When I was fifteen, my father re-enlisted in a war I didn’t know he had been fighting. He wanted to move back to the north side, he said. Back to the...
Smackdown
Klatt, if I may fabricate events, won the 2010 Iowa Poetry Prize by terrorizing the rural Midwest with his army of flying squids. More truthfully, he did this...
Sketches
Drawings become quiet tributes to the calculated work required in the cultivation of land, the plodding of the deepest shadow as it creeps across a...
The Love-Hate Theses in 10 Parts
Nurse lifts up a band at the baby’s ankle and turns it over for identification. “A little girl,” Nurse says, as if she hadn’t just seen the...
Fragments/Figments
the chartreuse breath of moths. poppy seeds brushed by shadow.
at night the heart gathers fragments—the heart never sleeps....
The Teacher & the Tuner
Pianos on planes had only recently come into vogue; skeptics abounded, the naysayers were legion, but ultimately the piano lobby had won out.
Now...
Phoebe’s first-ever Twitter contest!
1). Follow us on Twitter @PhoebeJournal.
2). Tweet us some superb prose or poetry--in 140 characters or less!
3). The three best tweets received by the end of April, as judged by us,...
The Problem with Brigadoon
I was supposed to be funny crazy, not crazy crazy. There’s a difference. Funny crazy is wearing tinfoil hats and washing your hands until they bleed and...
Gasoline Chainsaw Jesus
Forest blinking in stuttering out, soiling itself under
The moon’s sterile spotlight, forgetting its name
Snatching as much Sudafed as we could......
Birthday Trip to Père La Chaise
It’s February and we’re standing beneath a gray, birdless sky. Arm in arm eating mangosteens purchased from a wrinkled old man in a woolen hat and...