The Joker slept in the concession stand at Tutwiler Field when his old lady wouldn’t put him up. It was far out, past the Jitney Jungle but convenient to the trailers she lived in, and other than the weekly grass cutting that messed with his sinuses, he had no real issues with his spot. One… Read more »
Kozelek might not be the family member you turn to for unconditional love and stability, but that doesn’t mean you have to abandon him.
The bus stop’s shelter provides poor protection against the wind, which is really biting today. The bus runs only a few times per hour, and I am forced to stand in the little open shelter and wait because the bus stop cannot be seen from the hospital’s main entrance. At the reception desk a thin… Read more »
When distracting noise of modern day society ceases, silence and sharpened internal vision reveal our belonging to the most natural of things.
The vision of youth I saw in him, as a young person, was not some “it gets better” idea of a future where all the freaks get together and are suddenly happy, but one where that very isolation, that disconnection from society, from other people, is the raw material of humanity. He encouraged me to look inside until I was lost in outerspace, not to worry about authenticity or wholeness, but to violently project every fractured reflection of everything I saw, or wanted, read or loved into whatever void I faced. And that was important. Because youth is lonely and raw at the same time, and fantasy its only panacea. He told me my loneliness was what made me not alone, that it was a portal to whole universes which I had the power to access, and his personae functioned as evidence of that fact.
Get Real: Chicks on a Plane
by Carla Stockton
“They were everywhere, you couldn’t miss them, and when they weren’t performing on their own, they were performing as The Golden Boys with Fabian, Frankie Avalon, Bobby Darrin, or Lou was teaming up with Leslie Gore or Diana Ross. He was huge.”
5 Poems by Virginia Konchan
Coco Chanel at Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe All hail the end of the spectacle, pieces of royaume scattered on the sidewalk, evolution of la langue, after the fall of Paris, from garbage to decorative art. Nurse, I want to get to the end of the story, the song. I want a final death in… Read more »
FICTION – Frame by Charles Elin
A woman received her vital statistics in the mail. All the numbers were written on the outside of the envelope. Nothing inside. Her screams could be heard upstairs. I’m dead, she thought, looking at the creatinine level. Her husband tripped over himself on the way downstairs. “Honey, honey?” “You heard me? Tell me you heard… Read more »
Word Hole #10
The Hipster Revenant: A Tale of Revenge, in a Blizzard, in New York City, Last Saturday
By Jesse E. Sherwood
“So the journey began, all the way from the West 80s to Bushwick. I’ll be quick, because who really wants a whole big story about a guy braving the elements by himself over a really long distance?—boring. “
ART – 5 Pieces by Vivian Calderón Bogoslavsky
I try to translate my own path into the canvas and in the process a Print is left behind, filled with all of what makes me.
4 Poems by Lana Bella
TREBUCHET though small, you tugged the bough like a draped valance, thin arms swiped at the leaves in full-measured strokes, with fallen mites waiting to crawl into the dart holes of your skin– I would see those same pearly teeth and flickering tongue, where the universe gleaned from you not apologies, but tears of beating wings and guts ripe for climbing through tree stumps… Read more »
Get Real: Slogging Through Gray Zones with Son of Saul
by Carla Stockton
“I am always more heartened by an audience posing questions than by their claiming to have found definitive answers unearthed by the film.”
Word Hole #9
City Water: A Special Report
by Michelle “Hunter S.” Hogmire
“‘Oh, well, yeah,’ Jack Moreland told me, turning on the faucet in his apartment at 75th and West End, ‘this shit’s been brown ever since I moved in thirty years ago. Masie loves it.’ To illustrate, he filled a bowl for Masie the Norfolk Terrier, who lapped it clean. Other residents provided similar stories, with some exchanging tiny lively dogs for thirst-crazed toddlers in strollers.”
ART – 5 Paintings by Ernest Williamson III
Art pursued me, so I am a slave to the creative process in all of its forms.
REVIEW – I Sing of Arms and the Guy
The Aeneid, Books I-VI, translated by David Hadbawnik – Shearsman Books. 2015. Paperback. 222pp.
By Aaron Poochigian
“The translation simultaneously undercuts the gravity of Roman leaders and infuses the prophecy with a vulgar sort of testosterone. Jumping back and forth from epic to colloquial, the tone is fascinating in its poly-valence. Let’s go found an empire, dude! Hoo-rah!“
Word Hole #8
Powerball State of the Union
by Michelle Hogmire
“But tonight, I’d like to do something different. Tonight, let’s put all partisan concerns and arguments aside and discuss what’s honestly weighing heavily on everyone’s mind: Powerball.”
FICTION – Postwar Heartland by Michael Credico
1. A man leaves his wife to save the whales. The man’s called Sniper. The whales are a cover thought up by Sister. Sister was Sniper’s wife until Sniper suffocated himself with a plastic grocery bag. Mother’s expected any minute. Suicide’s a no go. “Are whales big enough?” Sister says to Brother. “Do you believe… Read more »