The Arrest, in all its surreal narrative trappings, supercars, and Hollywood theatrics, wants to know if words can save us in a dystopia.
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With a line after Matthea Harvey There’s a house on my palm. it sways with the wind. in our basement, my parents store records in an old crate. they sit reminiscing while
here’s a story about the woman i love: in my sleep, we wander the museum, & she points out
People described my father as a navy man, distilling his entire life into two words: NAVY. MAN. But I never heard him say those words. To be fair, he didn’t say much
yellow hibiscus shrouds the cathedral feet in pieces of sunlight / the church full of sprack / he steps into a cassock / moves down the vestibule
When the world woke from burning / we wiped down the counters / and straightened the dishtowels.
The Arrest, in all its surreal narrative trappings, supercars, and Hollywood theatrics, wants to know if words can save us in a dystopia.
Announcing the winners of our 2020 Contests in Flash Prose, Nonfiction, Poetry, and Fiction
Jon Riccio interviews Samuel Rafael Barber about his new book, Thousands of Shredded Scraps of Paper Located Across Five Landfills, That if Pieced Together Form a Message.
the sacrament parts
from a tongue
i told you