Archive for January, 2008

Welcome to Issue 2, January 2008

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We are so proud to release our second issue! There are some great pieces here this month, so please read and feel free to leave comments.Don’t forget to sign up for the RSS feeds to receive notices about updates and new pieces.

If you would like to submit, please read the submission guidelines first. We are now accepting submissions for the March 2008 issue.

Night Things

by Cathy Buburuz
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Night Things

Hoops

by Doug Goodman
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loops like a fugue. It is confusing, not knowing where I have been. Raven screeches at me from his empyrean atop a trashcan on the gray sidewalk. Hozho, harmony in the universe, must have been upset. Carelessness destroys it. Ripple effects. Religious chaos theory before it sprouted butterfly wings and became popular. Anything in myRead more…

The Doge’s Gold Statue

by Tim W. Burke
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I write this testimony as provenance to the work of art before you. I write to proclaim that I am the superior alchemist of the ages, as I have supplanted even the Almighty with my greatest creation. But I must write quickly, for as dawn comes, my hands grow heavier.

Temporary Buzzkill

by Stacey Janssen
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Buzz. Stop. Buzz. Stop. If I had to pinpoint the exact moment when it happened, I think it would have to be that one, right there. Buzz. Stop. Buzz. Stop. Now, I’m not saying that it happened all at once–at any exact moment–but whatever had been building inside me until that point had been sortRead more…

Junction

by Carol Reid
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What you want most in life is to make music but all you’ve got in your repertoire is words. You want to make the hep-cats dance, but how? The heat of their high-stepping feet will turn your words to baby mush, even through Ella’s velvet tones or Billie’s cornet whisper.

Footsteps

by Megan Arkenberg
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Beryl´s footsteps are very heavy. The whole floor shakes as she moves around, and doors rattle in their frames. I often wonder that she doesn´t notice these things, but then again, her eyes are not blind like mine.

The Posthumous Life of Eleanor Bell

by Gwynne Garfinkle
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The Girl Who Slept for a Decade   The languid, waxen princess Swoons luscious on the feather bed. Inert, she still inspires love Or something like it. How did she come to this? She may have been beautiful But beauty, she well knew Wasn’t going to save her From boredom or bone-tiredness. Trade her indolentRead more…