Posts Tagged ‘ IX.II ’

Defenestration: August 2012

Aug 20th, 2012 | By

Hello there, friends (and probably relatives), welcome to the August 2012 issue of Defenestration!

You’ll no doubt notice that this issue is short. Not short on content: we have five short stories and seven poems for you to enjoy this month. However, each of the short stories are flash fiction pieces. We didn’t really plan it out that way, but I don’t think you’ll mind. Characters included this month include a lovesick pharmacist, a digital daughter, a naked revolutionary, and a disillusioned science fiction writer. See for yourself! All the stories and poems can be found in the links below, or read together in the downloadable PDF copy.

I should add that this month’s issue contains strong language and sexual themes. That will probably just make you want to read it more, but I figured I should warn you all the same, so you’re not shocked and embarrassed. I can see you blushing already. Good. Get it out of your system now.



Three Poems by Jennifer Recchio

Aug 20th, 2012 | By

The new coffee maker uses bean pods.
Complicated machinery to jolt
my eyes with butterscotch sunrise flavor,
preparing me for a day at the house
of opera, watching them belt arias.
I use tiny binoculars until I
head back to the motel, take off my jewels,
wipe down the bathtub with disinfectant,



“Symphonymphony,” by Christine Tsen

Aug 20th, 2012 | By

Desire between my legs –
A cello
Or is it?

A stick in my hand –
A bow
Or is it?



“Stumbling along a Road,” by Christopher Oie Keller

Aug 20th, 2012 | By

Two roads diverged, at least I mean
I think I had two options on that day
but honestly, I really can’t remember, having seen
so many veer a bit north, but lean
just enough to go another way;



“Fascinations,” by Daniel Ari

Aug 20th, 2012 | By

The new iPhone fits into a pocket, and within it fits the sum total
of your personal information, plus an immeasurably large portion
of human knowledge including many of the observations gleaned
through the sense-expanding machines of our ingenuity. Plus you
can use the mic and camera to add to the burgeoning data terrain.



“A Pharmacist In Love,” by Jocko Benoit

Aug 20th, 2012 | By

The pharmacist is in love,
Sculpting pills into heart shapes,
Her tongue all homeopathic honey
As she names each of the sick in line,
All of their medicine mislabeled, the dosage
Written in poetry: “Take it all in
Slowly,” “Apply until your eyes
See what has always been there.”



“Science Fiction,” by Kevin Dickinson

Aug 20th, 2012 | By

Just by the way the envelope felt in his hand, Lawrence Breton knew what it contained.

“Another rejection letter, of course,” he said, tossing it unopened into the fire. This was not the fireplace with the white brick, the medieval logs, the eloquent wrought-iron grate, and the Kodiak rug: that was the one he thought he’d have by now. It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford it, but that he only wanted to buy it with book royalties. Lawrence Breton was arriving at the opinion that all publishers were soulless reptiles whose categorical genocide of science fiction writers was the greatest literary misunderstanding of the century.



“Sal and the Revolution,” by Daniel Clausen

Aug 20th, 2012 | By

If he tried hard enough, he could make sense of it all. Everything except the monkey. He was stark naked. That–he was sure—was something that happened quite regularly. The guy to his right saluting him with one arm, the other arm trying to hold his guts in place—he was sure he had seen him before in some kind of movie or something. And the guy in front of him, he was sure his name was Dennis or Donald.

“He’s clean,” Dennis or Donald said over a walkie-talkie.

The other man stopped saluting him and said, “It’s good to have you back, sir.”



“The Urban Surfboard™,” by Rion Amilcar Scott

Aug 20th, 2012 | By

There was a woman. Seemed nice. A bit too friendly and eager to please. That phony off-putting demeanor so many adopt nowadays. Heavy-set. Hair in curls like my mother wore in the 1980s. Came to see me because she wanted to patent an invention: a surfboard with wings and wheels. The Urban Surfboard™ she called it. I watched her prototype and plans as one would watch a carefully curled piece of shit on a dinner plate.



“Lettuce,” by A@ron What

Aug 20th, 2012 | By

Despite my great desire, I could not have biological children. I lacked an available uterus to inseminate, so I downloaded an app. For a while, my daughter and I were happy. I would feed her lettuce when needed, as indicated by an alarm trigged by her digital algorithm. I brought her to the zoo, etc. and she was bewildered, etc. at the vast diversity of animals, etc. in this amazing world.