The Nudist Contemplates Cannibalism

Michael Czyzniejewski

The Saturday campfire, his first in weeks, a July night, cool, save the flames. He’s brought his guitar, but can’t bring himself to play. Eighteen other nudists in flip-flops and mosquito repellent surround him. Marshmallows and hot dogs straddle sticks.…

Live Toy, Dead Toy

Mylène Dressler

Thanksgiving, 2009. My husband and I spend it on the road between Texas and Utah. At noon he guides the dusty brick of our Jeep off the highway to find a restaurant in Albuquerque, New Mexico, where we eat fish…

refrains

Drew Milne

grief is with me sharp again
           hungry to take what’s left
           even hoover through the cough mixture

What You Bargained For

Mai Nardone

Women are meant to be Thai. That’s what your buddy Phil told you before you flew over from the States and became the man you’d sworn you’d never be, sitting at this strip bar with a woman, no, a girl, who you can only describe as a flower. …

The Art of Failure: Memory and Apartheid

Jenn Mar

When Ivan Vladislavic’s The Loss Library and Other Unfinished Stories was released last year, the incandescent and entrancingly strange “lost story” collection received little attention in the United States, even though Vladislavic is internationally recognized as one of South Africa’s most significant living writers.…

We Are Bored; American Curse

Danielle Cadena Deulen

We Are Bored

So we line our bottles on the fence and aim, or swim
into the river’s gullet, let it swallow us bare—the vellum

sheen of mud on our skin. We drive for hours into

The Waterfall

Alberto Chimal

They hold the baby above the baptismal font, small and fragile, his head still naked. He’s awake: he feels the moisture and senses the cold that pierces the stone even though he doesn’t know them or know what to call them. …

Fifty Cents

John York

1

After she got a job inspecting cigarettes for R. J. Reynolds
almost the first thing she bought
a fold-top desk, open at her elbow

Dignity

Suzen Rita Chang

I didn’t come here on a boat. I didn’t get smuggled here like some exotic bird with my limbs folded and shriveled in the hold of a cargo ship.…

weekend-reads[the crab]; [the ram]

Liz Robbins

[the crab]

elaine, let me speak of the sign under which my folks were born,
the miraculous blue death we’re sure to carry in our female parts
as we were chosen

weekend-readsThe History of Risk and Restlessness

Lindsey Drager

An Introduction to the Myth of the Wrist

Wrist studies, while trying to chronicle the controversial history of the place where the hand and arm meet, attempts to understand why our culture has grown dependent on the myth of the wrist.

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