Fiction
Poetry
Godland: Sammie Jo
Sammie Jo don’t talk much. Her mother like to cut out her tongue any time she speaks up. A bone outta socket. As big as
Robert Eric Shoemaker
Poetry
Cold Lights
Outside my window there is steam
and there are lights in a skyscraper
where people sit at their desks
and the lights let them work.
Alan S. Kleiman
Essays
Kung Fury Will Melt Your Eyeballs and Scorch Your Brain
Have you ever wanted to see a time-travelling lone wolf cop (“I’m a cop. From the future.”) crotch punch Hitler (a.k.a. Kung Führer) in an
Glen Porter
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
Rachel Salisbury
Short Story
Girls
You tell her you love her the day she graduates. It’s a carefree spring morning, the perfect kind for the endurance training you sometimes did—
Natalie Wee