Latest Submissions

An Ode to Post-Cold War Friendships of the Creative Nature

The ’97 Bank of America robbery was one of the last great patriotic crimes, attached to a real need and a real motive, in a real nation, the kind you…


The Short, Mediocre Life of David Foster Wallace

On this day ten years ago, David Foster Wallace went into his garage, tied a noose, slung it around his neck, and kicked the chair away. The literary…


The Learning Question

Sitting at a two-people table, watching more than participating in the noisy office party, she looked up to see a man, drink in hand, pointing to the…


The Serpent

“The trap opened in a great big yawn and the light came shining in. Morning. Always one of the worst parts of the day. It’s sticky, stale, and it…


“A Place Somewhere,” “Museum Poem,” “Winter Buries Them,” and Other Poems

A Place Somewhere The dream is the same no matter the night. There is a light, weak and blue, over a country house where nothing stirs, not even a…


NEET, Part 2

XVIII. When he woke again, it was morning and the house was quiet except for rustling in the kitchen, the drip-drip of the coffee machine, and the…


Strange Rain

The memory returned with the speckled goose twenty yards long and a huge raised goose’s bill and face in profile, from the childhood nightmare in the…


A Further Conversation

This story is based on Egyptian mythology, Victorian fascination, and Edgar Allan Poe’s short story “Some Words with a Mummy” wherein his mummy…


Letters from a Heartbroken Pervert: On Snot

Yes, I mean the snot that comes from your nose. Again, hear me out. It’s cleaner than shit and piss, of course. But more than that, you vanilla folks…


My Shining Boy

On a cool breezy autumn night from the house down on the pristine white paved private drive came droves of teenage guests to a Saturday night…