Monthly Archives: October 2012

Sevier Juvenile,fiction by Matthew Funk

Andy kept knocking his head against the wall. Everybody in the courthouse lobby just watched. Some held hushed conversation, stared down the clock, pumped their leg. Jolene scooted away from the damp slap of the boy beating his simple head … Continue reading

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Two Poems by Glenn Hollar

Bottle Rocket Ars Poetica And if we banged into the absurd, we shall cover ourselves with the gold of owning nothing. —Cesár Vallejo I wonder if the great poets ever had this problem I think, as a bottle rocket cuts … Continue reading

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Lost and Found, fiction by Benjamin Soileau

I was drinking beer and washing the dishes that had piled up all week. I figured it would give me something to do to take my mind off of things. There I was, scrubbing and scraping away. I was washing … Continue reading

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Small Things, fiction by Eric Boyd

  Eric Boyd was born in North Carolina, attended some school at the Maharishi University of Management in Iowa, and currently lives in Pittsburgh, Pa. A winner of the Pen American Center’s 2012 Prison Writing Contest, Boyd has had work … Continue reading

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A Brutal Act of Ketchup, fiction by Gary Clifton

Hadn’t oughta been no damned trouble at all, ‘cuz wasn’t me did anything wrong – well not exactly. I’m a falsely accused man. Then I got this call today. The FBI was lookin’ for me…some crap about interstate travel to … Continue reading

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Coming Home, poem by Teisha Twomey

I reach below the sink, compare the proofs of the bottles beneath. Eighty is best and I pour the glass half full, watching the diet Coke turn gold, beautiful as amber. I climb the stairs the way I am use … Continue reading

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Sugar, fiction by Misty Skaggs

On a hilltop faraway, in another time, I had a pony. Papaw tethered her to one of the tall, thin maple trees situated in the dead center of the bright, green acre of clover we called the front yard. And … Continue reading

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First Aid, fiction by Ellis Purdie

The front fairing and headlight of the Yamaha were torn off and cracked, its windshield splintered and electric green paint scuffed in patches not unlike the road burns on Jesse, his son. The front wheel was bent, kicked out. “Not … Continue reading

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Old Ironhead, novel excerpt from Mark Powell

The child died in a sunlit market. The child died in a Vegas ring. Still, the years came and went. Wars and rumors of war. A decade of erosion that ended with morning. Maybe half past four and a taste … Continue reading

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Squirrels in the Attic, fiction by CL Bledsoe

Everyone in the house knew they were squirrels, except KT, who was sure with the conviction of an irrational mind further tainted from years of heavy drug use, that there were people – little people – living in the attic. … Continue reading

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