Category: Summer 2013

  • SUMMER ISSUE #8

    POETRY Natalie Eilbert | Zach Fishel | Matthew Harrison | Eman Hassan | Kathleen Hellen Daniel W.K. Lee | Peter Schireson | Lani Scozzari | David Shattuck | Raena Shirali Kim Stoll FICTION Daniel Chacón |  Nathan Knapp | Kelly Miller NONFICTION J. Davis | Shawndra Miller | Paul Lisicky FLASH FICTION CONTEST WINNERS! Winner Ann Stewart McBee Second Place Abe Gaustad Honorable Mention Gabrielle Korn Cover Photo: James “DrZ” Zdaniewski is a multimedia artist based in NYC that has shown work around the country.

  • Paul Lisicky

    FABLE                                               (from THE NARROW DOOR) A man opens his kitchen door. He watches his dog, a white dog with enormous feet, walk down the steps of the porch onto the backyard. The dog trots the border of the property three times. He sniffs some grass, rubs his coat against the hedge, looks for a spot […]

  • Daniel Chacón

    A STUPID HORSE  They stepped into the elevator. He slid closed the outer door, which was made of metal slats, like an accordion, then the inner door slid closed on its own. The red plastic card he held said 1216. He pressed the button for the 12th floor. In my country, he said, in her […]

  • Kim Stoll

    WHAT ANNA’S BEEN UP TO Anna’s been telling lies. Been gagging on air, puking up someone else’s medication. Anna’s been rain on the mountains lately, plotless and wrong. Should maybe not wear a dress if she’s gonna sit like that, pulling legs off of Daddy Longlegs. Anna’s eaten several small meals throughout the day instead of three big […]

  • Natalie Eilbert

    FIRST CONJECTURE OF THE SELF WITH FIGURINE Tonight you are no one’s treasure. There is a love you’ve never craved carved into your limbs that I want you to bury but don’t. I swore I heard you out in a clearing, the clearing I was made to feel small and lost in, where I imagined […]

  • Raena Shirali

    PRODIGY –with from a line from Warsan Shire I grow up smelling of papaya & coconut oil, my shoulders thin & darkening out— from bronze to henna on splintered docks, beach towel like a doily under the caramel-sweet of me. I learn from girls with strawberry gloss. They say fucking is as simple as lemon […]

  • David Shattuck

    THE RIVER BESIDE US The rain has ceased. Across the city dark umbrellas furl and spit the wet remains. Behind the clouds light falls, as dust on the streets carves their natures. I remember the river widens near our house. You walked down to the bank and leapt in, cast your lot among smooth stones. […]

  • Lani Scozzari

    ADDICTION I. All I believe is beauty, whittled, terrible. Your name rips the sky from my life. I feed you my hot marrow, slanted. I arch for you when you ask. Shrunken, my breasts like a surface of tar. I always knew you. Your grip carves the arctic of my hand. I’ve weather water’s edge […]

  • Kathleen Hellen

    ANALECT OF THE FLY Gin blossoms twisting on the tip. Something like a nose for it. A bar room. Yes, he could teach you— How to hear with feet. How to live without a head. In the compound eye’s mosaic, intensity blooms like coltsfoot over-wintered. Like fruit. She’s bait gel in the clover. Jail bait […]

  • Zach Fishel

    XIII Little sparrows burn their bushy homes when the snow starts. Like cut tar and burnt gears . I want to fuck a poet who never wrote before. The bareness lets you see their wings, standing quiet enough to see your steam leave and hesitation comes like releasing the parking brake knowing you’re still gonna […]