the saturday people

By John Grochalski the saturday people have strange faces they look lost like they don’t know what to do with themselves with all of the free hours that they’ve been given they sit in diners smiling hating the people sitting next to them drink weak coffee and freshly squeezed orange juice eat runny eggs and [...]

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Spam King

By M.P. Powers And then there was Jack Rhodes, twobit academic slash pseudoeditor, sweating over some lousy sestina he was seeking so stealthily to slide in your inbox. He’d been prancing the carpeting of his lower Charlotte lovepad, hands rummaging in the subaquatic realms of his fathomless trouserpockets. “…a zag up an’ a zig down, [...]

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The Neon Rug

By John L. Campbell Omar shakes sand from a new magic prayer rug, shrink-proof, made in China from washable, synthetic camel’s hair, for travel across deserts without water. Riding the rug trimmed in blue neon with a fringe of matted camel dung, Omar wings over Omaha, the site of other unidentified flying objects. Spotted by [...]

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Grease Fire

By Jeffrey McDonald Scalding skillet. Brimmed fluid swirls counterclockwise, guided by its own aberrant febricity. Upper story. Unmindful cuisinier, stoned, remiss tenant. Lower story. Hard-working couple slumbers deservedly, soundly. He dreams of gardens in the sky. Her gardens earthly. Dog alert with kitchen odors. Basement stairs egress. Boarder’s entrance. Shared in the tiny kitchen choke-point. [...]

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Bulimia

By Len Kuntz I am reaching inside myself, elbow cocked toward a ceiling, fist and fingers fitted in my mouth, down the throat trying to find the key that unclogs the valve near my esophagus. But there is no air and no You, so I dredge all day, my fingers as unreliable as ever, but [...]

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Galaxies in My Bed

By Amanda Deo How do I move through your hair skipping constellations because we’re just too drunk and this is how we met 10 beers on your grandmother’s table turned into a marriage.

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The View From the Eastern Slope of Mount Baker

By Mather Schneider She stretches naked on a yellow blanket above the treeline. I stand over her and I’m naked too, horseflies chewing my headcheese ass. Then I’m upon her, a bobcat screaming on the sunny edge of a lonely glacier. I’m the first me, she’s the first her. Her hair is obscene in the [...]

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The Earth is a Booger

By JD Nelson Indigo, Montana. “Wow – that’s some astro,” I blinked. Handy Wendy of the Bible pressed a green button on the control panel. “I’ve been grafting sausage onto my old body,” I said. “Untruth,” said the machine. “I knew you’d know,” I said.

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Helios, Selene, and Doris Day

By David Tomaloff you want light- you are ambiguous I am lazy- sandwiched between a good excuse- yet another- and the light of the silvery, silvery, /silvery fucking- moon

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Should the Bedwetter Sing, If the Bedwetter Could

By Ashok Rajamani For the bedwetter singy the steamed pupplie songs and chordsy his fucking throat was it weekly no he said screwing himself to wretch music would demand too much darn (darn!) effort like cumming cummy goo but it was the music it was always about the music

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