Posts Tagged ‘ Daniel Galef ’

“Anabasis,” by Daniel Galef

Dec 20th, 2017 | By

Mr. Stevenson must have had a first name, but, if so, his teachers didn’t know it. “Is that so, Stevenson?” they inquired. “Speak up, Stevenson, so that the whole class can hear you.” Mr. Stevenson’s parents probably knew his first name at one point, but may have forgotten. His friends didn’t know it, for the same reason that unicorns don’t know the capital of North Dakota.



“I Have No Money for Avocado Toast because I Can’t Stop Buying Houses,” by Daniel Galef

Dec 13th, 2017 | By

There is a hum and my phone skitters an inch or so across the table, bumping into a pastel yellow beachhouse perched on wooden stilts above a vista of scenic rolling dunes.

It’s Marc, asking if I’m down for brunch tomorrow with his cousin who’s in town for a music festival.

With a sigh, I text back to say I can’t afford to keep going to brunch in the middle of the week, by means of the waffle, dollar sign, and sad face emojis



“Wake up, Sheep—Paul Giamatti Is Not Dead!” by Daniel Galef

Jun 14th, 2017 | By

I know I’m going to catch a lot of flak for this, but I don’t care, because PEOPLE DESERVE TO KNOW THE TRUTH, and I’m not going to CENSOR MYSELF just because there are some things that THEY don’t want us thinking!



“Dear Contributor, We Apologize for the Two-Thousand-Year Late Reply, but We Are Unable to Accept Your Article at This Time,” by Daniel Galef

Jan 4th, 2017 | By

Dear Sir or Madam or most likely a disintegrating heap of bleached bones,

The editorial board of the Libri Paginarum Minimarum Herculanei thank you for the opportunity to review your submission, but regret to inform you that we cannot include your piece, “Ten Reasons Emperor Titus Will Be Nothing Like His Father (Titus Will Definitely Crucify Me for Number Eight),” in Volume XVIII of our publication, which, incidentally, no longer exists and has not existed for some twenty centuries.



Two Poems by Daniel Galef

Dec 20th, 2016 | By

I remember
the hour we lost.
It was April,
and the hundred-year-old trees were being born for the first time again.
I felt,
so briefly,
like I had control over time,
although of course I was only doing what I was told, like everyone else.