Latest Submissions
“Freedom: Poemlet from Drawerling” and “The Victory Ode to the Dreamy Peace”
Freedom: Poemlet from Drawerling the liberty is the golden bosom a freedom---a diamond-like leaflet-home an eagle needs also a bit liberty I want to…
Flooded
The car lay upturned in the ditch. The headlights continued to shine through the packed trees, illuminating the tangles of vines, the moss-speckled…
Newgarden
"In gardens, germaniums essentially rot. Never increasing, growing, germinating: ever regressing, never idle." --- George Grant, English Rhymes "New,…
A Christmas Story, a True One
Christmas. A time for Santa, presents, infrequently Jesus, and for a number of tortured souls, rehearsals. This is a time for Tchaikovsky to be…
“Putting Cigarettes Out on My Ashtray Heart,” “The Things I Learned in Cellars, Wrote My Childhood’s Suicide Letters,” and “Fake Blood and Rubber Bats”
Putting Cigarettes Out on My Ashtray Heart Contentious dispositions imbibing courage through volatile elixirs in a room full of pretentious soapbox…
די פּאַסטוכער
The moon hung low on the horizon gliding among icy white caps of winter clouds. Pearlescent stars twinkled in a sea of the darkest Tyrian purple as…
Terror House Radio, Episode #4: Incels Are the New Rock Stars (with Andy Nowicki)
On this episode of Terror House Radio, Matt Forney welcomes Andy Nowicki to the show to discuss the second edition of his novel The Columbine…
A Sigh from the Depths, Part 3
VII. Walking down low burning streets lit aglow by half-empty bars, people trailing in and out, in front of and behind us, everything soaked and…
City
The stars were bright, much brighter than they used to be. It was probably because the city wasn’t polluting the sky with light. It was cold out,…
Picasso is in Your Soup
Peggy was listening to Bing Crosby’s Christmas carols and grinding pepper over the puré when she heard the front door open. “César?” she called,…
