Posts Tagged ‘ XIII.I ’

“This Is Probably Not The Right Time To Tell My Wife About My Awesome Movie Idea,” by Doug Cornett

Apr 20th, 2016 | By

From above, probably on a helicopter, we see an island in pandemonium. In the center of the island there’s a volcano that is just spitting magma all over the place, smoke pouring upward, the whole place is rumbling. But what is that we see? Down at the base of the volcano, somehow not engulfed in lava? We zoom in. It’s a hero, and he’s, like, meditating up on one leg. He’s got his shirt off and he’s ripped. Then… his eyes snap open!



“Former African Despot Mobutu Sese Seko is a Subway Conductor on the 6 Train,” by Emily Buckler

Apr 20th, 2016 | By

Spring Street. Stand clear of the closing doors. This train will skip Bleecker—I do not care for it. Transfers to the 4, B, D, F, and M trains must use my brother Rodney’s special car service.



Two Poems by Matt Dennison

Apr 20th, 2016 | By

Onion Never buy a single onion if you live alone. For unless you are greatly skilled in the art of onion management, at some point you will end up with less than half an onion on a little plate on the middle shelf of a nearly-empty fridge, it’s pitiful, withered, stem looking like the sliced-off

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“Yours in undead desperation (a zombie soliloquy),” by Anna Della Zazzera

Apr 20th, 2016 | By

I’ve started to keep a Food and Feelings Journal,
but it just ends up sounding like the lamest brand of forced narrative.
Like Chicken Soup for the Mystically Reanimated Soul,
or that recurring dream I have where I’m the host of
a low-budget, zombie-themed daytime talk show,



“Food Policy,” by Bob Schildgen

Apr 20th, 2016 | By

The cigar is chewed to nothing,
there’s earwigs on the brie,
but the dumpster’s flowin’ over
and there’s plenty here for free.