2009 August

Ten Fingered Hand

by Joe Weil It was a terrible year when Micheal Jackson was God, and Diana Ross was his mother. Forget getting layed. I worked a factory, grave yard shift, came home at nine in the morning, belched forth by the 58 bus, opened a bottle of Becks just to wash the steel chips from my […]

Argument

by Adam Fitzgerald The life we didn’t live. The time tepid as bronze, but honest. The stacked air, the frozen rail, the dripping of blue drops in summer. The honey-trees, the brick façade, the empty canyons of light between a street and the wheeled grocery cart of the sun where a cloud slips his footing. […]

Jason

by Liz Rosenberg The summer night is radiantly cool. You’d have liked it. You’d have loved the chili-pepper of the rose, daisies at the zoo, the color of a shell’s curved roseate innards, the orangey scarlet ibis picking his lit way along the wood-chip path and penguins flittering through the pond like bats. “Flying is […]

Oranges

by Derek Abdekalimi I was supposed to go to the baseball game, but I didn’t I stayed home and ate oranges. The juice dripped down my lips and off my chin, so I washed my face, after I ate five or six. I was supposed to pay my taxes, but I decided not to and […]

Tony, 1994

by Rachel Javellana It didn’t help that he had a port wine stain— a birthmark like a drink that had been thrown in his face—which became the way he was identified when his name wasn’t recognized, or immediately after like a surname, shyly spoken now that he was dead, after being absent less than a […]

Flat Window

by Will Parker Flat Window

Don’t Call Me Chuck (Darwin)

by Tesla Monson Don’t Call Me Chuck (Darwin)