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October 31, 2024 |
in Fiction |
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Aileen was to be another triumph for artificial intelligence. Ever since Big Blue clobbered chess champion Gary Kasparov, machines had leveled the vaunted bastions of human intelligence. ...
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October 31, 2024 |
in Fiction |
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Inspired in part by Annibale Carraci’s painting The Bean Eater (c. 1580-1590) and Giuseppe Arcimboldo’s fruit and vegetable “portraits” (c. 1590) “Boil us, bake us,...
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October 29, 2024 |
in Fiction |
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A broken clothesline leans against its shadow nothing to hang memories on through the stillness of the desert landscape I meander fragrance of creosote bush underfoot dry winds blow...
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April 8, 2023 |
in Fiction |
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To get to the Howard Oberholter Artist Colony, I took a train to Plunketteville, then a bus to Upper Yarn. I hiked the last mile up a dirt road, humping a knapsack that contained a change...
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April 6, 2023 |
in Fiction |
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I’m flat on my back when he takes out the gel. A gob falls on the floor. This won’t hurt, he says. Fisting my hands, I stare at the wall, the basin, a neatly framed poster...
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January 12, 2023 |
in Fiction |
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He was enormous, stretched, gold cat-eyes, the skull of a dog, crisp, beneath which the long mouth lay, all under a ceremonial gold braid, surrounded by erect dog ears; each of them drawn...
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September 27, 2022 |
in Fiction |
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When the lights went out the second time, we stepped into the hall to see if the blackout was affecting our apartment alone or the entire complex. The night manager yelled up the stairway...
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January 26, 2019 |
in Fiction |
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Ever since the principal had banned texting, Mia barely talked to her boyfriend during the day. Sometimes she didn’t see him until lunch. That morning, though, he was standing right...
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January 15, 2019 |
in Fiction |
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On the one year anniversary of Allison’s assault, the garbage man—he preferred this title to “sanitation worker”— saw, as he was emptying a trash can into the dump bed of the...
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August 15, 2017 |
in Fiction |
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You have always trusted the forest. Here, danger could be seen and is known. The floor of the forest is layered with cool leaves that can be used to cover up faces. You’re lying here,...
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June 22, 2017 |
in Fiction |
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I don’t like to drive out here anymore. I hate to see what’s happening to the land. Most of the marshes and trees and family farms are gone. Flimsy houses built with particle...
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April 16, 2017 |
in Fiction, Uncategorized |
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You are becoming more and more comfortable with the routine of your therapy sessions. The office with the white walls, chipped paint, some outdated magazines. On the wall across from your...
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December 28, 2016 |
in Fiction |
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We loved Mr. Pasternak before we knew what love was. He was young and good-looking, and he was the only teacher we didn’t sense secretly needing the approval or friendship of us, his...
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October 19, 2016 |
in Fiction |
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(a story of a girl) Matty is better on beam than I am, but I don’t think I should have been put in level four. I can land my cartwheels perfectly and I’m better on the jumps than she...
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June 22, 2016 |
in Fiction |
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0
I had been in New York for a month when it started. I came from Israel—a finite place, its meaning already set. It’s done. Israel is like a piece of luggage too heavy to open and...
[new_royalslider id="17"]
Ana Flores is a sculptor and ecologist. Her work is informed by how pla
2 Poems
Let Me Straddle Your Mind
The Crusader
Yeah bring our electric shaver back, I bought it we shaved each others back
it was important to me
Kwame Dawes
1
Yes, we were country, lived in shotgun
shacks, where the road loses its way
to dirt and live 
[new_royalslider id="11"]
Courtesy of the artist and Mizuma Art Gallery
"Feminism is a socialist, anti-family, political movement that encourages women to lea
Junot' Diaz
and Edison, NJ
The first time we try to deliver the Gold Crown the lights are on in the house but no on
Elegy & Poem
"We are all the other."
…and find inside a picture,
of myself as a child, sitting
on a small chair, wearing overalls
an
Raphael Perez
To Alex, on turning two
Some say the Ring of Brogar
is the Circle of the Moon.
There is n
March on Washington
An Interview with Cheryl Evans
In a strange twist of what seemed
like reverse vandalism, the Graffiti
Mecca was painted over. 
Forest Gander
A Translation
Quassan Castro, poem
Grandson to Grandmother
Wynwood Walls, of Miami has been called "a Museum of the Streets."
Low like the mean dream
of Newark the sky must
have seemed to its builders.
Rickety now, unhingin
At last, the extremes
of his present methods
seemed to offer
the happiest avenues.
The strengthe
5th Limb
Poems
Poem, Knot
Poem, Look This Way
Xue Du, Poem
A woman in a black kimono dyed black hair
disappeared behind a black curtai
Poem:
Behind the War On Women
Maria Mizzotti-Gillan
Short Story
Pilar Fraile Amador
poem
Lady Haiti
David Trinidad
Landzy Theodore
Angelo Nikolopoulos
