by William Doreksi A fish-pond by a stumbledown barn. A chubby old man and I sit on the rim and skip stones. Mine skip a dozen skips, his one or two. “I admire your style,” he remarks, “the flip of the wrist, the single knot of muscle pulsing down the forearm.” The summer evening throbs …
Category Archive: Issue #2
Sep 15
The Trapdoor Spider in the Alley
by Luis Rivas I see them walking by but they don’t see me. In the alley where I sleep, the tall overgrown bamboo stretches out over the walls and cascades down to the ground. I sit completely still behind the thick branches and trash and watch all of them walk by me in the dimly-lit …
Sep 15
The Success of Trey
by Luis Rivas There is no truth. There is only perception. – Gustave Flaubert I wake up. Hangover’s not too bad. I lift off the cut-out carpet that I’m using as a blanket. I locate my briefcase (imitation leather but still looks damn expensive) which I stole from the Salvation Army Thrift Store. I get …
Sep 15
Kids These Days
by Jason Hardung Last night I was killing time and brain cells simultaneously, burning through random videos on You Tube when I came across a stand-up comedy bit by miserabilist and self-proclaimed alcoholic, Doug Stanhope. Between beers and cigarettes he talked about how things today are so safe and how our generation, Generation X, will …
Sep 15
greasy tip
by Carl Miller Daniels the clatter of tiny reindeer hooves awoke the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy. it was christmas eve, and, despite the promise of new clothes and telecommunications gadgetry, all the sexy naked big-dicked teenage boy was really thinking about was his own big hard throbbing dick, and, um, er, well, this did …
Sep 15
who ya like better? gauguin? or caravaggio?
by Carl Miller Daniels when sitting in warm yogurt, virginia, and gravitating toward the moon, the two sexy naked big-dicked boys looked around their college dorm room, and were delighted with the collection of stuff that they had crammed into their snug little room: balls of newspaper, and wads of string, old brightly painted tennis …
Sep 15
frequency of intercourse
by Carl Miller Daniels i am the barbarian battering at the gate. my teeth are sharp, and covered with gargle. my fingernails are ready to tear civilization into tattered shreds, and fill in the gaps with pauses. i will demolish existing power structures. i will smash approval ratings. i will tie up sexy squirming young …
Sep 15
The Smell.
by Matthew Pasquarello This is not the worst But certainly not the best The woman smells Of everything that is not a woman Of sweat and whiskey Of gun smoke and gunpowder Of volcanoes and peer pressure Of fire and brimstone Of intelligence and idiocy Of cigarettes and candy canes Of adolescence and adulthood, Senior …
Sep 15
Unshaved
by Josh Olsen The hangover was almost more than I could stand. I hadn’t vomited yet, but my body was wrenched with pain and I constantly felt like I was on the brink of shitting in my pants and, to top it all off, a woman was standing less than ten feet in front of …
Sep 15
Bermuda Locket
by Karley De la Filth Caught breathless. There was no other way to describe the situation. He had seen the warning signs: that glaze, that glitch in her eyes, that crazy glimmer. It’s not that he had ignored the foreshadowing, it’s that he saw these things bursting out of her petite frame and they had …