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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