Fiction

Poetry

Lascaux is Burning

The first art Was not art, Rather, a color line shot through the dark, No more expression Than a plea for explanation. The grandest monuments

Poetry

Antagonistic Environment

he swears that the desert is laughing, mocking him with the distant wail of the wind, the hoot of an owl. each spray of dry

Poetry

Popular Experiment

  *synth beats* bright plastic blue screen green screen *auto-tune screams* chunky glasses tuned-in apathy *boy band* drive fast die young pretty corpse *twangy guitar*

Fiction

Falling Short

I saw everyone, having fallen short, on the ground

Poetry

Opposable

How do I write with these frantic fingers Left index plugs tearing right aorta Right hand holds closed ripping left ventricle I am hopelessly, entirely

Fiction

All Noon at the Bank D’Amemzionne

Mister Pope stood in line at the Bank D’Amemzionne, where he’d come to make his regular cash withdrawal to cover the upcoming week’s expenses. Getting