Juked

A Fable from the Palm-Leaf Manuscript

Tue, 21 Feb 2012 00:04:00 EDT

Poem by Josephine Yu.

Italo's Dreams' Pianos

Wed, 15 Feb 2012 08:51:00 EDT

Short story by Danilo Thomas.

The bed here is not Italo’s but belongs to no one . . .

Old Guys in the Steam Room 132 F

Thu, 09 Feb 2012 07:43:00 EDT

Poem by John McKernan.

The Hippopotami

Tue, 07 Feb 2012 08:39:00 EDT

Short story by Sean Lovelace.

Here they are again in the kitchen Saturday noon-thirty, the hippopotami . . .

A Cemetery at Night

Fri, 27 Jan 2012 09:40:00 EDT

Essay by Liz Scheid.

I’m sitting in my car sipping hot chocolate. I’m listening to Pearl Jam. You loved Pearl Jam. At least I think you did. I know I always did. But somehow your past is my past. Or my past is your past . . .

Gone, Gone, All the Stones I’ve Thrown Out to Sea

Tue, 24 Jan 2012 01:19:00 EDT

Poem by Michael Mlekoday.

Lucite Cinderella Light-Up Shoes

Thu, 19 Jan 2012 00:52:00 EDT

Short story by Ian Sanquist.

Ezra was reclusive in the right ways and the songs he wrote could break my girlfriend Caroline’s heart. I was eighteen then, maybe nineteen. I lived with my parents. I was taking three classes at the community college, and working a job at a secondhand clothing store. Caroline and I went to concerts or dances most nights, and other nights we went to parties. We ate ecstasy and speed and looked for halls to faint in, or quiet places to feel each other up . . .

When All Else Fails

Tue, 17 Jan 2012 00:52:00 EDT

Poem by Joni Lee.

My Memoirs

Thu, 12 Jan 2012 01:18:00 EDT

Short story by Edmond Caldwell.

It was the time when everybody was writing a memoir, so of course I began writing a memoir. I’d thought about writing a novel but nobody was writing novels any more. Memoir was taking the novel’s place, everyone said. And sure enough, at our local bookstore all the memoirs had crowded the novels over to a single corner of the New Titles table. You could still see this one guy who thought he was writing a novel hunched over his laptop in the bookstore’s Starbucks, but he typed much harder than he had to and had a funny smell when you got close. I didn’t want to be that guy, so I started writing a memoir instead . . .

Okemos

Tue, 10 Jan 2012 01:09:00 EDT

Poem by Avram Kline.

Stopping for Breakfast in Slidell

Tue, 13 Dec 2011 22:15:00 EDT

Poem by Anne Barngrover.

Not the Archive, but the Sieve

Tue, 13 Dec 2011 10:33:00 EDT

Short story by Elaine Castillo.

The house will have been as empty as always, on the night that Aphrodite comes to propose they go on a tour of Europe. No one else to hear or see the minute shift of draft and current that unsettles the air when Aphrodite appears at the balcony window. No one else to feel the tremor rising from the ground when Aphrodite alights upon the edge of Sappho’s bed and begins to tug at her feet, beginning with the smallest toe . . .

Flowers in Stone

Thu, 08 Dec 2011 10:28:00 EDT

Poem by Glen Armstrong.

Hide and Seek

Tue, 06 Dec 2011 10:16:00 EDT

Short story by Michael Cooper.

Corinne wanted to honeymoon in a rainforest, any rainforest, no guides, no tourists, wanted to hunker nude behind giant taro leaves, only her legs exposed, parts by which her man would find her. She settled for a quiet taxidermist, Lance, who inherited a motor boat from his ailing father on their wedding day, and soon he’d inherit the taxidermist shop where he’d grown up, hiding under tables as a boy so as to avoid glossy owl eyes and the tusks curling out of warthog mouths and the fact that his father once told him that it was entirely possible to stuff a human being, to rebuild that person from a polyurethane base and tanned skin. Corrine and Lance agreed to spend their honeymoon mostly trailing across the sea . . .

What Elise Means to Me: Euridice

Tue, 29 Nov 2011 09:38:00 EDT

Poem by Rebecca Hazelton.

Ode to the Unceasing Doggerel

Tue, 22 Nov 2011 09:24:00 EDT

Short story by C.T. Hutt.

There is a dog barking somewhere in your apartment complex. That’s no surprise. You are, after all, trapped here until your lease is up. Little annoyances like this are part and parcel of your current socio-economic standing. The roof leaks, the stove belches smoke, and the dog barks. It’s nothing to worry about, you think at first, no reason to cause a fuss. You were prepared to endure a few curs when you signed on the dotted line. . . .

True Light

Thu, 17 Nov 2011 09:27:00 EDT

Poem by Les Gottesman.