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Dear Neighbor, by Alan Chazaro

Dear Neighbor, it’s no wonder we drive spaceships and eat inside caves around here. Yesterday, a teenager confessed to seeing his first murder. Said the car pulled up his block and smoked a dude quicker than his Black & Mild. I don’t know why he told me this, standing at the bus stop but now […]Read More

The Educator by Sarah Melton

An MFA right after undergrad and straight into a paid position. Not bad, right? But you won’t find my book in the storefront. No Pulitzer, not even a “Joel’s staff pick” sticker thrown on the cover. When I was hired I fantasized about National Book Prizes and intimate literary gatherings at George Saunders’ house. I […]Read More

Crow’s Eponymous by John Oliver Simon

Crow’s Eponymous Crow’s eponymous caw’s caught raw in my craw. Tell me something I don’t know, crow. Something rhymes with nothing, nothing rhymes with orange. Your range includes my backyard, you’ve made that crystal-clear: The air embroils your articulate passage galaxies hook tentacles to dosey-do sidewalk and street run outward to morning white spaces, uncharted, […]Read More

First Down by Christina Gardner

Brett Llewellyn comes to mind. On a clouded day, Brett Llewellyn stood on the field in the schoolyard. He was a freckled lanky boy with a conservative cut of red hair. He cradled a football, helmet-less. After a whistle, his red hair jostled as he dipped, faked left, and ran. He wore no team uniform—a […]Read More

Through with that by Kaitlyn Duling

Through with that She says she dumped him just like this, her back upright in the chair. The chair against her shoulder blades. The chair wooden. Its arms wooden. Outside, the door of the U-Haul pushed up, he watched its mouth slam open with less noise than one might expect. Her, silent and in the […]Read More

Driver Training Days by John Laue

I       What was I doing sitting in a car careening from lane to lane of the Golden Gate Bridge, my heart in my throat, while Mrs. Cerf, my driving student, freaked out? Maybe I’m not cut out for this kind of drama, I thought. Maybe I should have turned down the job.          I’d had to […]Read More

Ode to Rob's Closet by Abe Becker

Ode to Rob’s Closet It’s not that the job market for White Ethnic Studies majors was hit particularly hard when I graduated. It just felt like it. Rotting in the privilege I learned about. Lost in the tiny matrix of my dad’s couch. The chicken-shit son come home to roost all over his earned retirement […]Read More

THINGS WE SHOULD’VE SAID by Angie Walls

It’s October, but I have no idea what day it is. I am still a ghost of myself. The sky is hopelessly black, with only a couple dim streetlights to shine the stairway up the hill to Lo Coco’s, where I’m meeting Pete. I find myself stumbling on the way to the restaurant, the one […]Read More

October 30th by Claire Scott

OCTOBER 30TH he steps into a crosswalk carefully checking the light is green again swinging a tennis racquet hop-skipping across eager to meet his friends or cane click-clacking as his twisted body step- stutters across the street again a car turns left sunblind? texting? his body thrown again sirens blaring bruises swelling blood seeping through […]Read More

Escape Velocity by Rebecca Chekouras

I couldn’t let my husband know I was driving. One week from my due date, big as a manatee, I sped through San Francisco hoping to get home before he found out, but the closer I got to our apartment in The Mission, the more new construction choked the streets. In the few hours I’d […]Read More

Instantaneous by Carol Dorf

Instantaneous The curve’s tangents define velocity. No one tells a pregnant woman what labor or the first months will be like; that our velocity is not continuous. The body demands the chemical compounds of pleasure. As a child before gender, I desired flight, space, rockets. Later all my theories shrunk into a particular moment.   […]Read More

SuperChad by Alan Good

  I was irrumating a blow-up doll when the phone rang. I let it ring, or ding, or radiate, which was the name of the ringtone. If I didn’t finish I was going to smash a building or hurl a car into space. I get that way. We all do. A blow-up doll. How pathetic, […]Read More

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Yuletide by Daniel Romo

Yuletide I stand in the center of the store and question how I got here. Lost among seasonal blends and the past year. The baristas know my name and start making my drink, even before I pay. Is a man’s predictability worthy of pity or praise? I grip the holiday cup and Starbucks spins. Each […]Read More

The Cat by Jeff Fleischer

  Sitting in a bar on Christmas Eve didn’t feel out of the ordinary for David Silver. He was still unmarried, and his last relationship had ended months earlier, before there was even an awkward discussion about whose parents they would visit and how much time he’d need to take off work and what was […]Read More

SHOTGUN CHRISTMAS by Ephraim Sommers

  SHOTGUN CHRISTMAS If you don’t believe in heaven, what then is holy? Before dinner, your diabetic father punching a syringe into his belly, fill your mother with Rockstar and orange juice, fill a wooden pipe with a squeeze of weed, and she will have your father leaning back in his wooden chair, laughing the […]Read More

The Christmas Party (1968) by Warren Read

  It was almost five-thirty by the time they pulled out of their driveway and onto the boulevard. The roads were already glassy and slick, and a white crystalline fog draped from the line of streetlamps. Gil held tightly to the wheel, his back inches from the seat as he hunched forward. The car floated […]Read More

Bad xmas by Courtney Leigh

Bad xmas #hungrybutnotlooking: A Charlie Brown Story Xmas is the emptiest time of year. Charlie Brown’s been eating chocolate santas all month in an attempt to stay warm. From cherry hat to toothache, he gorges on the supple little santas & kisses Lucy with bleeding gums & molars. She cums & goes home to her […]Read More

How Much Do You Tip by Sean McCollum

I stared out the window at the bare trees, the stubbly cornfields, the barns with their hex signs. It was the Monday after Thanksgiving and my folks and I were headed out to pick out a Christmas tree. Feliz Navidad blared into my ear from the stereo speaker directly behind my head. “Anything you want […]Read More

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Fruitvale Is by Rohan DaCosta

Fruitvale Is I know a place held together By a level stretch of road Two expressways And a perfect myth Where the houses are pastels Broken Easter eggshells Scattered about the chewed up hills I know a dog named Bunny That gets loose and chases pigeons On the downward slope of Manzanita I know a […]Read More

Strawberry Ice Cream Glacé by Alvin Orloff

I couldn’t find a boyfriend, so all I could do was eat – mostly strawberry ice cream glacé, my own invention. I made it by pouring ruby port wine very slowly over ice cream so that it froze a little. A small drizzle created an elegant glassine crust, though I often ended up with something […]Read More

What is Male Entitlement? by Meg Johnson

What is Male Entitlement? Please give this poem a chance even if you despise the title. I love men. Most guys are superb. This poem is not about a first-rate guy. This poem is about my ex boyfriend masturbating in the woods and ejaculating on a tree. Imagine the serenity of nature and then Once […]Read More

An Apologia (For the Beastliness of Carol) by M.J. Nicholls

PART ONE: REUNION On a thermal night at ten past ten Carol swaddled her firstborn in a bath towel and laid him on a step outside Flick-Picks video shop. A screening of Françoise Truffaut’s La Nuit américaine was taking place inside and up to four people had arrived for the event. The salival softening of […]Read More

For Jake: by Hanna Pesha

For Jake: energy flows like a blue dragon through your life snaking through the time of your days fast and bright as fireflies magic birthright blocked only by unwillingness to feel the anger that is yours nothing is wrong with plunging a knife violently into a lie About the Author: Hanna Pesha lives in Oakland, CA. […]Read More

Brunch by William Auten

  One of the things he loves about his cousin is her out-of-the-box, unique approach to life, novel things to try and novel places to go, most often spurned on by reviews she’s read in the Post or on the Web, especially the food and drink reviews. And lately their get-togethers coincidentally happen when their […]Read More

Control Group by Heikki Huotari

CONTROL GROUP The ingredient in question is extruded, pressed into the shapes of animals and offered to the criminals, but not the kind we like. The kind we like are put up in hotels and given new identities, careers and social skills. They can have anything they want delivered to their doors for their last […]Read More

Pickwick Bowl (Burbank, CA) by Justin McFarr

“I’m sorry, Vernon, I really am. I just wasn’t… you know, expecting it to be that much.” The father opened the door to the Pickwick Bowl. Light streamed into the darkened entryway as he led his son toward the service island forty feet down the carpeted hall. “It’s okay, Dad. No big deal.” The boy […]Read More

COURTS-MARTIAL AND INCARCERATION: THE TRAVIS AFB ECSTASY INTERDICTION AND ITS AFTERMATH by Charles Von Nordheim

COURTS-MARTIAL AND INCARCERATION: THE TRAVIS AFB ECSTASY INTERDICTION AND ITS AFTERMATH Midnight is when we cast our net at the base’s main gate Seeking hints of a pill with an X from a Berkeley rave Every third car popped with a written golden flow order Unless dogs provide cause by alerting on an odor Seeking hints […]Read More

The Escaped Air by Natasha Patel

Shaila paused at the door before entering the hotel room. She leaned against the frame to prevent it from closing, letting only the tips of her toes cross the threshold. The Lovely had upgraded them to the Honeymoon Suite, as a token of gratitude for the six hundred and eleven wedding guests she had brought.   […]Read More

If Grasshoppers Could Shoot Me by Nancy Kangas

  If Grasshoppers Could Shoot Me or bite me venomously I would not cut off their heads with scissors as I currently do About the Author: Nancy Kangas writes a poetry column, “Slides (Interpreted by Nancy),” for the online journal Ohio Edit, and a monthly humor feature for the children’s magazine Muse. For over a […]Read More

The Ride Back Home by Kimberly Reyes

  I prayed the thin white wires hanging from my ears would serve as sign, a signal saying: “Better to ask someone else for directions, or for the time. My time.” As a native New Yorker, I’d learned at a very early age how to erect invisible boundaries.   I was studying the Eiffel Tower […]Read More

I Want to Drink Like Don Draper by Alison Moncrieff

  I want to drink like Don Draper —from an Old-Fashioned glass, all day long and a TV hangover. Safe in my starched white shirt, soft & thick in the shoulders. Easy in my creased American pants with their careless power, my missing self gently folded behind this drama-mask hairline, behind my 5 o’clock shadow […]Read More

Model Home by Marléne Zadig

Respectable people assume that they can perceive the danger in a place proportional to the level of rust and decay afflicting the objects inhabiting a property. Barbed wire, warped and twisted into a rats’ nest of tetanus; corrugated iron, bleeding down rust from the bullet wound of a screw hole; rusty nails sprouting out of […]Read More

Issue N°8 Spring 2016/ Relaunch

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Vacancy by Melanie J. Cordova

At best, the words were vestigial, parts of speech that had atrophied in the womb. When the “rescue party” searched for the hiker lost in the Jemez Mountains, it had been anything but lively. The faces in the van driving to the campsite were somber, nervous, hands wiping at noses and scratching the backs of […]Read More

NOW, FOR REAL by Paul Corman-Roberts

NOW, FOR REAL –   For Richard Loranger Manners and mind games and mind games and manners matter more than mind games matter in the never ending I you we, I you we, I you we times three is all I need to get through this poetically selective gallery of vowels and/or processing to you know […]Read More

Burn Up On the Mountain by Becky Mandelbaum

“Here’s the problem,” the German is saying. “You say you want to be alone, and then I turn around and find you with another guy.” He’s standing above me, holding onto one of the bus’s overhead straps. His nails are dirty, a thin smile of darkness at the end of each finger. The lights of […]Read More

Backstreet by Anne F. Walker

Backstreet The ambulance sloshed by today siren cut and re-ordered by leaves. The harder you have to think the simpler the answer must be. About the Author: Originally from Berkeley, Anne F. Walker grew up in Toronto, Canada.  There she began her writing and publishing career, studying with bpNichol, Frank Davey, and Susan Swan while earning a BFA […]Read More

On The Field Of Play by Anthony Ausiello

Our ten year-old annual sponge ball game always ends the same way. Al wins. He switches around to bat lefty to give me what he would call a fair chance. He’s cocky even when he’s down 6-3 in the bottom of the ninth. He thinks his string of victories will go on forever, like DiMaggio’s […]Read More

Who Ate Fire by Brynn Saito

WHO ATE FIRE I’ve seen the best men of my generation made starving and small, made dust by the thumb of oppression. I’ve seen the best women of my generation tend lonely to the men who claim to love, plant bombs in their own throats for slow exploding. What is the way of structural suffocation? […]Read More

Humans of Scandi Whov by Mark Rapacz

Illustrated by Christopher Coffey  Read More

Like Dinosaurs by Leah Tieger

Like Dinosaurs We ran out of beef in Texas and the women are chewing their boots, hawking silver and turquoise for lamb. They use their hats to catch the neighbor’s chicken. They’re feeding children hops and cornmeal mash, anything the cows would eat. We slice the bison so thin the marble becomes stained windows and […]Read More

Interlude by Alyssa Oursler

He was a big fan of silence, except when he wasn’t. He was a big fan of Chipotle too. Over a burrito bowl one day during lunch, Dom talked about Berkeley tee shirts. He had graduated from the school but declared that he would never wear one because he didn’t want to flaunt it. I […]Read More

what if we knew by Georgie Abel

what if we knew i wonder if the haters would still gossip if they knew i would probably make out with them after hanging out three times. it wasn’t always this way. i used to believe in their words, in whatever i heard, in the tangles of lies that they spurred, and in their lists […]Read More

Inevitable by Michael Overa

Sara stands at the kitchen sink rinsing her cereal bowl, and as the water goes from white to milky pearl to clear she is already up on her tiptoes and craning her neck to see over the fence into the neighbor’s yard. She shuts off the water and sets her bowl beside the sink, leaning […]Read More

Crossroads by Jenifer DeBellis

Crossroads Hours after last call, after bars send their last groggy-eyed patrons home with a goodnight & hope to see you soon, a man dressed in black stands in the intersection of the divided highway, shouting obscenities at cars that slow once they realize the shadowman in the road is real. His pale face & […]Read More

World Peace Part I by Emily Kiernan

August 6th, 1945. Berkeley, CA The roast was nearly finished, and the beans would go into the water as soon as she’d set it to boil. Linda wiped her hands on the kitchen towel and stretched her neck to one side and then the other, feeling the crackling with a burst of pride—she’d worked hard. […]Read More

Issue N°7 Winter 2016

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A Blue Jay Screams by Cassandra Dallett

About the Author: Cassandra Dallett lives in Oakland, CA. Cassandra is a Pushcart nominee and reads often around the San Francisco Bay Area. She has published online and in many print magazines such as Slip Stream, Sparkle and Blink, The Bicycle Review, Chiron Review, River Babble, and Up The River. A full-length book of poetry, Wet […]Read More

Jungles of America by Jessica Barksdale

After Evelyn Scrimshaw had her hip replaced, her husband Dave carted her off to the rehab facility instead of bringing her right home to recuperate in her own bed. “I’ve got to work! Someone has to. How can I take care of you on top of everything else?” he asked. Before she could think of […]Read More

“The right to be forgotten” by Mindela Ruby

Being bad in a fun way is cool when I’m young Dropping sugar cube acid with a poet at Mantara Beach Grooving on pelicans, breakers, sand dunes ‘til we’re scared off by the cold and dark and a seaside lurker we suspect of ill will By sheer luck we escape both car crash and DUI […]Read More

BECOMING OUR FATHERS by Lisa Mae DeMasi

The biggest influence on the child is the unmet dreams of their parents. –Carl Jung Every reader has a secret obsession. Besides masters like Tolstoy, Austen and Marquez, bedtime often finds me curled up with books by those wily women who somehow make it up the ladder to the c-suite. What strikes me most about […]Read More

Ode to MRE No. 08 Beef Patty by Aaron Graham

  Out of sky or stratocumulus you drop sailing like a segmented, rotting lemon once cool yellow hemispheres matte brown. Rhinoceros hide, you remained there attached to nothing. Bird beaks cannot gash jaws of jackals never puncture your Internal organs. Your life your death your sand falling, moveable feast My ka-bar scalpel measures you and […]Read More

What God Said by Shruti Swamy

I slept all day and when I awoke, it seemed as though my bed tilted itself, dipping up and down in my room like a little boat, and I was awash in the river of evening. I could hardly sit up. There was a burning in my body, and a fuzziness of vision, a blur […]Read More

Pour Marcel by Allan Tinker

“Et avoir un corps, c’est la grande menace pour l’esprit.” – Marcel Proust The absence of Proust’s brother while his mother’s split in two, good granny and rival mama, suggests the anxious splintering of an imaginal if not wholly conscious fratricide, as in the cage with two fighting rats brought into the room of the […]Read More

Mr. Wonderful Knows All (But Won’t Tell You Shit) by Rochelle Spencer

When the sun sets on San Pablo avenue and the sky melts into a series of fluorescent and baby-blanket pinks, Mr. Wonderful, the most famous street hustler in all of Oakland, comes out to play. Mr. Wonderful is one of those men who’d been handsome once, and is, truth told, handsome now–even in his dirty […]Read More

Humans of Scandi Whov by Mark Rapacz

Illustrated by Christopher Coffey         Read More

Something to Talk About, Something to Say by Hugh Behm-Steinberg

  I’m sitting by myself, trying to get some work done on a project while I’m on my break, when a gentleman in a nice suit sits down across from me. “How much is your time worth?” he pitches me. I’m bored, so I catch, but before I can say anything he puts his finger […]Read More

chairs by philip kobylarz

chairs are publicly accepted skeletons, this being more evident when they are paint-peeling white. At best they are architecturally concealed plates for the ass and genitals. Like horses, we dispose of them if they have even one fractured leg. They are the unsung heroes of any meeting or gathering. Skyscrapers as compared to toilet seats. […]Read More

One Day in Pleasant Park by Jake Fuchs

Leaning on his cane, his broad back turned toward us, Mr. Russell considers me over his left shoulder. I don’t know how to interpret that steady look.  Oh, certainly he was upset by what I said. I know that much. He’d stopped in mid-stride, stopped dead. And now he turns. And what he says completely […]Read More

Habit by Danna Ephland

Halfway through the evening he reaches across his chest for the soft hem of his shirt sleeve, rolls it up over smooth bicep, pulls it past rising deltoid just short of the clavicle. His beautiful habit. Needle comes to her senses, falls out of her head into her own muscle and reach. Her hands fold […]Read More

David, the cephalopod by Ploi Pirapokin

1. At the California Academy of Arts and Sciences, a sign above the octopus exhibition said: No flash photography allowed at the octopus tank. I wouldn’t want to be on display for the world to see either – it would be too much like high school, where word spread like rain clouds in the sky […]Read More

Et cetera. by MK Chavez

  About the Author: MK Chavez is the author of Virgin Eyes (Zeitgeist Press) Visitation, Next Exit #9 and Pinnacle (Kendra Steiner Editions). Recent and upcoming work can be found in Eleven Eleven and Sparkle & Blink and Rivet. She has been a fellow at Squaw Valley Writers Conference, Antioch Writers Workshop and VONA. She is co-founder and […]Read More

House Cleaning by Bill Schillaci

He turned into our driveway in a dinged Mazda pickup with power washing equipment in the bed.  There was a pump attached to an upright heat exchanger tank, a black hose rolled up onto a yellow reel, and a cluster of spray wands bundled together like Roman fasces with a length of clothesline.  “Victory in […]Read More

Fuck You by Riss Rosado

Fuck the lower back pain I got Bending over backwards for you. Fuck your Oedipal complex Your mom is out of her fucking mind. Fuck whatever she did I’m not her. Fuck every night you were too stressed out about work To get it up. Fuck you for not leaving work at work And thinking […]Read More

Pancakes on the Ice by Melissa Wiley

Did she know I might be in love with her husband? She did, I was certain. The love usually lasted for only twenty-four hours in succession, enough for me to dream of him the night after I’d just seen him. Each time I saw him again, however, the dream lengthened. As Kirsten looked at me, […]Read More

Issue N°6  Fall  2015

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The Secret Life of David McLiddy by Jacqueline Doyle

“David.” His wife’s voice rang out from the kitchen. “Did you call the plumber?” Shit. His fantasy evaporated abruptly. E. had been bent over his desk, sundress pushed up around her back, panties on the floor, legs splayed, and he’d been fucking her from behind, plunging into her warm, wet pussy, hands cupping her ass […]Read More

Just Black by Jan Steckel

    Just Black Machine-gun-fire rain on the zinc roof. I wheezed like a calliope. The cats’
eyes guttered with the kerosene lamp. They stalked me, tails twitching. Always want to sit in the allergic person’s lap. The succubus story: a cat perched
on a man’s chest, sucking his breath. My abs burned. The river was high. […]Read More

Personal Injury by Kenneth Radu

Late for work like that frigging rabbit, except he was late for the Queen’s garden party—off with his head—and wouldn’t that solve some of her problems except decapitation was neither viable nor amusing. People would object, and her heart grieved for the poor men who had been beheaded in Iraq insofar as she could grieve […]Read More

Beach Town and August, Adolescence by Leland Seese

      Beach Town and August, Adolescence Flotsam from a vessel sunk a half a century ago Sunburned afternoons surveilled by the owner of the general store Subtle as raccoons around a trash can as we sticky-fingered Ads in black and white at the back of hot rod magazines To glimpse the montes veneris […]Read More

The Water or the Wife by Jordan E. Rosenfeld

Justine’s feet burn in the wrong shoes—the lucky red boots with turquoise tips, boots that usually tempt the fates, call on rain gods to drench the soft leather. She couldn’t bring herself to wear sandals in winter. “Never seen a February look like July,” says the farmer, reaching up to touch the curling edges of […]Read More

Disintegration by Richard Pacheco

Disintegration  Along the shore the seagulls break formation, dive like kamikazes scrape the water’s tip furrow wave tops then loop skyward sun-masked dimly conspicuous as ·ghosts.   About the Author: Richard Pacheco is an award-winning playwright, poet, artist, journalist, filmmaker and educator. He was a finalist in the grant competition in playwrighting for the Massachusetts Artists Foundation […]Read More

Rock, Paper, Scissors by D'Arcy Fallon

I. I’m calling my new husband from a pay phone not far from Pescadero State Beach on a wind-blown summer afternoon. It’s 1985 and the clouds are drifting in. Dunes and cliffs and wildflowers and cattails and buckwheat and pebbles. Driftwood logs and kelp and oh sweet Jesus lots and lots of rocks. I lean […]Read More

Condolence Call by Sandra Kohler

Condolence Call H___T___’s cock paid me a condolence call when I was sitting shiva for my father years ago, called home from college by his death to the apartment I’d never seen before – his, my stepmother’s – they’d sold our house that fall when I left, were waiting for a new one to be […]Read More

Whisper to a Scream by Nafissa Thompson-Spires

  The comments poured in steadily, and though she never responded to them right away, sometimes taking up to a week so as not to look too eager, Raina always read them almost as quickly as her viewers posted. She ignored the inevitable N-word, monkey, and black-fetish cracks, some of the main reasons for her […]Read More

A Perfect Line by Yume Kim

A Perfect Line When the mother was young, she grew up in Busan, South Korea. One day, she was happily chatting with her friends. Suddenly, her teacher slapped her face. “Learn to write better,” he scolded her before walking away. Many years later, in Baltimore, Maryland the doctor informs the mother that her three year-old […]Read More

Rabbit Outside by Carol Park

Nicholas leans in close to the two photos he grips: himself at graduation from eighth grade and, four years later, high school. In both, his blue eyes are set between a pale forehead and high cheekbones. Something is different about his look. Something more than the length of his straw-colored hair. What he really wants […]Read More

Here Are Instructions for Removing the Scissors by Kelli Allen

  Here Are Instructions for Removing the Scissors Take the bribe offered and just plunge your entire arm, full past the twist of elbow, into the cool muck. Take this moment as opening of determined appetite— the blades are yours once pulled into the grass. Yours. Take whatever weird laughter you hear behind your shoulder […]Read More

Issue N°5 Summer 2015

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SO WE SAT DOWN AND SAID by Steffi Drewes

SO WE SAT DOWN AND SAID Rise and shine Guanajuato, Sebastian’s got five tongues to your one, odds and ends the acrolinguist flings into his breakfast banter. Not just the number of bricks it takes to build a church or trips to Peru before he stopped eating papaya, tell me how to launch a comeback […]Read More

On Having No Tits by Suzannah Weiss

  On having no tits: a feminist interlocution of Douglas Harding’s “On having no head”   Proposal of the Theory of Tit-Eyes Eyes, Tit E. University of Boobsborough Quarterly Journal of Tits and Ass, Volume 36D “There existed only the Now, that present moment and what was clearly given in it. To look was enough. And […]Read More

Irreversible by Peycho Kanev

    Irreversible The body of the dead bird soon enough becomes dirt where the worms live which soon enough become food for the newly hatched birds. I picked a flower and smelled it – Spring, death and              swallows’ wings. About the Author:Peycho Kanev is the author of 4 poetry collections and two chapbooks, […]Read More

Kîlauea and the Curtain of Fire by Ryan McKinley

The week started with a volcanic eruption and it continued with a death. Kîlauea volcano burst and Kelsey Araki, a sixteen-year-old sophomore at Kohala High School, was murdered. Both events hit Detective Achilles Naluaka. He was assigned the case of the murdered girl the same day lava started flowing toward his home. The house and […]Read More

prosaic hell by Courtney Leigh

    About the Author: Courtney Leigh is The Bowhunter of White Stag Publishing. You can read more of her recently published poems in MadHat Lit, The Doctor TJ Eckelburg Review, Ginosko, & Thank You For Swallowing. Artwork: Sarah Walsh   Read More

Moles by Helga D. Stroya

      About the Author and Artist: Helga D. Stroya draws comics at her kitchen table in Portland, Oregon.  You can see more of her work on her new website at http://helgadstroya.com/ or follow her on Instagram @helga_d_stroya.  She also has a tumblr page which she rarely updates under the same name.  Helga D. Stroya can be […]Read More

Dual Income by Nadeem Zaman

Maruf was against Salma returning to work, but not because he thought she was incapable. He was, simply put, old-fashioned. Salma had been fine with being a housewife. Fifteen years had passed since she was teaching, a decade and a half during which they had two children, a military government came to an end, religious […]Read More

Time And Its Relatives by Peggy Aylsworth

   TIME AND ITS RELATIVES I hobble in the ruins of myself, grateful as a bronco out to pasture. Layers of dust find ways to hide the glisten underneath.  Red, as in coral thanks the longest waves of light. I didn’t die at 24 as I once thought. At 93 my wits remind – the […]Read More

Oakland, California 94607 by Rebecca Chekouras

  A clerk wielding a Remington Rand had pounded his full legal name, Earl Anthony Jones, Jr., onto the original 1969 business license fading on the wall by his chair, the window chair. In the double frame next to it, an old snapshot of his daughter, all arms and legs, was balanced by a recent, […]Read More

Revel by Ana Maria Caballero

  For Dr. S. Rueda On the night Chavez died I needed to feel drunk So I called my son’s pediatrician Told him I wanted to be happy He said I should be happy I didn’t mention the wine Maybe he figured and it wasn’t the first time So I mixed white formula with water […]Read More

Blue Dun by Jason Kapcala

When the ice begins to thaw from the lakes and streams, my brother Drew and I put in for our vacations, leave our homes, and migrate north to Lakeville. It’s part of a promise we made back when we were still in high school: to return to the spawning grounds of our ancestors and work […]Read More

AUBADE by Simon Anton Nino Diego Baena

Aubade Breaths are slower, and nobody climbs mountains just to hear a song. Creaking doors are ubiquitous, as well as stains in the statues of saints in churches, birds shit and grave faces. How do you welcome epiphanies? Please tell me. An open window is not enough for a mouth full of ruins. Of course, […]Read More

When the Lane Ends and Other True Memos by Kelsey Liebenson-Morse

Date: October Third, 2014 To: Hecklers of Morgantown From: Enraged Female Subject: Who Do You Think You Are? Strike One: First you leer at me, four of you out of a moving truck. You say something, but luckily I can’t hear because I am talking to my friend. I am still trying to forget last […]Read More

 

Issue N°4 Spring 2015

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After Visiting Jack London's Grave on the Day of his Death by Iris Jamahl Dunkle

            About the Author: Iris Jamahl Dunkle’s debut poetry collection, Gold Passage, won the Trio Award and was published by Trio House Press in 2013. Her chapbooks Inheritance and The Flying Trolley were published by Finishing Line Press. Her poetry, essays and creative nonfiction have been published in Fence, Volt, […]Read More

Bobby Fischer Goes to Hollywood by Ian R. Jacoby

  Opening Los Angeles, 1971: Craig curses at a white car that pulls in front of us outside the Knickerbocker Hotel. Craig looks good in a bitter, failed actor kind of way. That means it’s extra gross when he sneers at them. He’s also cursed with chronic perspiration. He told me they had to paint […]Read More

Ballpoint Pens as a Point of Reference by Mercedes Lawry

Ballpoint Pens as a Point of Reference Let’s talk ballpoint pens, and do they reproduce and how can one be found at a moment of critical need and do they resemble paper clips in some utilitarian matrix and what is their relationship to nostalgia? Ah, gibberish, the high notes, the low notes, such and much […]Read More

The Six Types of Literary Conflict by Dan Carroll

    About the Author:Dan Carroll draws jokes of ever-decreasing accessibility. Clock his progress at http://www.herecomesyourdan.comRead More

Truckee River Rock by Julia Park Tracey

  Truckee River Rock   Half moon floats in an empty sky, Like a slice of lemon in a cool drink. River calm and silent. Water skeeter. One small fish. A tree carved by a bear, And a bear carved from a tree. The wind says shush and whoa. Shush and whoa. About the Author: […]Read More

Bullet Run by Mark Rapacz

  2/2/2014, 12:00 PM, Overcast 50°, 7.5 miles, 6:50 min/mile Notes: During the weekdays I run at lunch, and I run up the highest hill I can reach within my hour time allotted. I go up and then come back down. On weekends I run into the countryside and into the foothills, and I do […]Read More

Etched Indigo Blood by M.O. Mc

  Etched Indigo Blood Seen series of an afterlife when I walked through the catacombs It was June, scorched un-nameable animals & dye skirted the walls I saw how Osiris cut successors’ way walked a few feet in the dark towards an Egyptian Syria using deadly combination of expertise brutality classically associated with disturbing videos […]Read More

Bats in the Attic by Clare Fitzpatrick

We were on our way to Annie’s funeral on a cold morning in the pit of December. Sky heavy with rain and aching. I had just turned on the defroster. Jay was in the passenger seat, sipping his coffee. We were waiting for the rain. From the corner of my eye I watched Jay’s fingers […]Read More

Carrying the One by Kevin Brown

Carrying the One   We both learned languages—you started Latin in sixth grade, row after ordered row of declensions, while I was forced into French my freshman year, rules so random they seem pieced together by three teenage boys in a basement passing the time until the rain stops.  Our brains are built for words, […]Read More

A Comic Strip in Ten Panels by Barry Blitstein

  A comic strip in ten panels: In the first panel, there is a crescent moon. In the second, a cow. In the third, the cow spins its tail and inflates its udders. In the fourth, the cow rises and in the fifth, reaches the clouds. In the sixth, the cow appears below the moon; […]Read More

Ice by Michelle Gil-Montero

Ice Salt dissolves this mirror which is finite, blotched with the heat and wet of a benignant winter in the body, a kind austerity, the exsufflation of a needy sentence whispered softly to fog a surface. Outside the neighbors string lights around the trunks of lifetime oaks, like necklaces of bejeweled tears, as might costume […]Read More

The Odyssey of Turkey Jane by Mandy Campbell Moore

California’s Highway 395 is a road you’d use if you were on the lam. Or if you wanted to see Los Angeles raped and left for dead. I know desert, but this looks like a bomb’s aftermath got swept away by windstorms. Hours ago I threw the few things I haven’t sold into my Hyundai […]Read More

Slanket by Christopher Coffey

  About the Author: Christopher Coffey Lives in Minneapolis draws things for his instagram feed #suncoffey He usually looks like a gay norwegian sailor and he is fine with that.Read More

Coventry Road by Mira Martin-Parker

  Mother said it was haunted. Mother said it was moldy. Mother said it was small and dark. But I remember it differently. I remember a Spanish-style cottage with a large, scarlet bougainvillea bush growing around the front door. I remember yellow sour grass flowers bordering the stone footpath, and a swing hanging from a […]Read More

Issue N°3 Winter 2015

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[johnny appleseed] by July Westhale

  [johnny appleseed] Look. I lived a life of pure good. Even the animals loved me, & the savages, too. I wed no wife, just the hills of colonies. They gave me children of knotted wood, spines of pines, the personal luxury of shade. I know a man who gave up the ghost, once he […]Read More

Verdaderos Peruanos by Nicolas Poynter

The traffic here is like some type of perpetual-motion machine, spinning and flowing with a complete disregard for the laws of physics, incessant honking, rabid lane changing and no hesitations to drive the wrong way down a one-way street. There are dozens, perhaps hundreds of near accidents every moment but, as far as I have […]Read More

The Best Pozole in Santa Cruz by Shane Book

Essay written for broadcast on the radio show This I Believe The Best Pozole In Santa Cruz That big other was like my big other from another. Was all, “I’m a kidnap your kid, make him feel like a kid again” made it             easy      to work over the No Knock Police Raid (with the […]Read More

The Art of Disappearing by Marion de Booy Wentzien

Mom is dead. The cop who tells me this early Monday morning is so blond his face has a peeled look. I hear the words but I can’t understand them. He repeats what he’s just said. From far away I hear those awful words again: Car. High speed. Cliff. To keep from screaming, I stare […]Read More

As A Lemur At A Wedding by KT Gutting

As A Lemur At A Wedding No one can see me. Princesses gather around flowers and doilies and ribbons at table four. “Do you know where the photo booth is? I just love photo booths.” I was looking for someone earlier, or waiting for a text, and drinking raspberry raspberries at the bar after four […]Read More

What Really Happened by Sylvia J. Martinez

  It wasn’t a penny, actually. It was a nickel. But she’d called it a penny. That I’ll never forget. We’d been walking home from school which at the time for me was Edison Elementary in San Francisco’s Mission District. Our mascot was the “Lightbulb.” I was in the fourth grade, having just transferred from […]Read More

Night Music, A Whalesong by Andrena Zawinski

Night Music,                                                                                                           […]Read More

Cockstrong by Celestin d'Olanie

When money is funny everything is a joke. Showing up late with bleary first person shooter eyes isn’t a big deal these days. The muttonchops were a surprise. We’ve got a few shitasses here like you. Most are recent hires driving new cars home to McMansions with garages bigger than my house. All on zero […]Read More

I Live With Clicky Introverts by John Bruce

I Live With Clicky Introverts I live with clicky introverts, whose soundtrack is a cricket shrillness with a bullfrog growl undertone leaking from the motor of my refrigerator. Echoes from the tubes of my television pump out images and voices and I assume that they are about otherworldly matters, but I am not really listening; […]Read More

Dancing the Demons out in DF by Angela Rage

It was a Friday night in Mexico City. I had been living in the Distrito Federal, or simply DF, for a year, getting by with several teaching jobs throughout the city. To get to each one I spent over 20 hours using all forms of public transit: the metro, peseros, taxis, the metrobus, the regular […]Read More

The Matter by T. Allison

The Matter Dance, she instructs winkingly, within a ring of men, So he, watching, will be aware that you are wanted. Or, perhaps, count three dates until he puts his hands On your inner thighs. Pressing outwards, inwards — wait. My fortune told me silence can be a catchall. Well, I can’t quite recall. Maybe […]Read More

Funeral Fount by William Conable

Doc Franklin had been dead three days, and according to the funeral opinions that mattered most, he looked the part. Jordan didn’t agree. Staring out the window into the great inhalation of Saturday, late July, Jordan thought Doc more than dead; he thought him dissipated. Someone had tried to bleach the yellowed tobacco from his […]Read More

he strings by Barry Blitstein

he strings About the author: Barry Blitstein began in theater (MFA); he has lived in New York, The San Gabriel Mountains, Los Angeles, and Berlin, Germany.  He feels very much at home wherever he is. Most recently his poems have appeared in Off The Rocks, Hartskill Review and The Inflectionist Review. His objective is to make each poem’s form […]Read More

Hard to Believe by Elise Glassman

Freddy said, “Hal, dude, you just missed the nurse. She wouldn’t tell us bupkus but oh my god, what a smoking hot body. We’re calling her Hot Donna.” I traded hugs with him and felt anxious: Freddy joking about the situation made me worry that things were really bad. Turning to John, I said, “What’s […]Read More

Poor K by Allan Tinker

Poor K As K stands before the (not Jewish) grave digger, for whose benefit the author worked in his professional capacity as a government legal, investigative and administrative agent with executive authority, brought into the government by a converted Christian who knew him to possess the brilliant and creative mind necessary for handling the newly […]Read More

Three Sundays At The Grove by Dallas Woodburn

  When Deepti was born in San Francisco in the summer of 1991, her parents were living in a tiny apartment above an Indian restaurant called “The Golden Sari,” and they were in their Hindi phase. Deepti often wondered whether the Indian restaurant and the samosas her mother craved during pregnancy influenced their sudden conversion […]Read More

Issue N°2 Fall 2014

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Snow Globe by Monica Wesolowska

From his hospital bed, he could not feel the heat of the day, but he could see the wind tearing the last, wrinkled leaves from the silver branches of a tree and bending the top of an evergreen beyond. He thought he should ask her the day. “Tuesday,” Helen said. But what he had meant […]Read More

In Paris by Charles Bane Jr.

  In Paris In Paris, all the streets were rained and magpies in the shadows of Notre Dame poured tunes. The cafes dripped and all the city was wet that afternoon; you said, look at the long haired Seine; do you want to walk in the Jardins des Plantes ? No, I said, let’s hold […]Read More

Green to Blue by Rebecca A Eckland

  When my partner of seven years begins to see another woman, he will buy me a small, calico cat.         It’s a Saturday in November, and we’re out together when I see the cat in a cage in a PetCo. He immediately offers to buy her for me, and I won’t […]Read More

Matthew 13 by Seann McCollum

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doxology from a barroom window by Leland Seese

  doxology from a barroom window the fire engine blasts its horn and siren southbound toward an elsewhere accident two women in their twenties drinking vodka flit about the edges of their readiness to kiss a cough drop wrapper gold and black blows up from the gutter to the sidewalk near a tree a zillion […]Read More

A Tight Spot by Jacqueline Doyle

  Sure I felt like an asshole. We’ve all been in tight spots made us think about what assholes we are, gave us time to ponder. I had all night, and then some.         Seasonal work was the best I done last year, working for Mel’s Electronics for the Christmas rush. Black […]Read More

Just how we say what we say is what we say. by Julia Tranchina

  Just how we say what we say is what we say. This valley. Death shall be at the start. Drown the object in its history. Sank after it capsized; exploded in a ball of fire; derailed and plunged into a canyon; died at 97 of pneumonia. Tell the truth gradually, carefully. I’ve never met […]Read More

The Tricycle by Stephen D. Gutierrez

        My dad picked up the tricycle for me from the Martinez’s around the corner.  I was afraid for him because my dad was sick, and the Martinez’s were tough, and I feared something wrong happening, something violent, something bad.  I watched him walk out of our yard through the gate at […]Read More

"Mr. Jones" by Counting Crows by Larry O. Dean

 “Mr. Jones” by Counting Crows I heard it in the grocery store, piped in so clear, there in the canned food aisle; my hand hovered in mind-reach for eight ounces of tinned peaches I planned to cook into a pie. So taken was I my peach-search was abandoned and I ran, frantic and alive, to […]Read More

Jonah Hex by Le Cram

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Payback by Jacqueline Berkman

              Tamara was yelling at Peter to get in the car, but her mind was on the garden of the Malibu house, sensing that everything could begin or end there. As Peter shuffled down the stairs with a morose gait, she envisioned a pebbled entryway and bougainvillea everywhere. It was […]Read More

Wanting What You Can't Have Anymore by Jason Bayani

Wanting What You Can’t Have Anymore We were long and far away from the old city. When everyone grew above the wild stalk. We grew wild and then grew into our bodies. We named and then named ourselves again. We learned to be weightless and floated above the ground. We danced until the sun came […]Read More

The Tenderloin by Vincent Chu

The smell of urine was almost unbearable, but by the corner it passed, replaced by the smell of wet vegetables from the curb. The restaurants, hip ethnic ones included, had closed up shop and pulled shut their iron accordion gates, and it was getting to about that time in the night when the population shifted, […]Read More

Open Reading by Trina Gaynon

    Open Reading Shattuck Avenue Bakery  The new manager is atwitter with reminders to exercise caution going down the back stairs to the bathroom in the corner of the working bakery that turns out 10,000 croissants a day and gallons of coffee for the free refills. The chest beneath the Yale sweatshirt decompresses when […]Read More

Aggressive Fiction by Justin McFarr

             Burton Fielding entered the classroom on the first day of school, more uncertain of himself and his future than he had been in eight years of teaching. More than uncertain, he was terrified. His soul had yet to recover from the drubbing, both physical and psychological, he had received […]Read More

Once the Conundrum is Dispelled by A.J. Huffman

Once the Conundrum is Dispelled It comes like this sometimes.  In waves of grief higher than my head.  I hold my breath and hope it will not consume me.  More often I hope it will.  Why can’t the breaking be complete? The pain is severe.  But what is enough? My mind slips out for a […]Read More

Ten Dollars and Detroit by Kenneth Radu

Our friendship occurred years before Detroit burned. Years later I learned the word that describes what my best friend liked doing to me, or perhaps doing to himself. A telephone pole may have served as well, although now I understand that something like willing flesh was his preferred choice. I never said no, although willing […]Read More

Doomed Romance by Jan Steckel

Doomed Romance I met a blond man in an erotic bookstore. We stood overlooking the Pacific Coast Highway. He said, “Night is for man to press pedal to metal. Night is for woman to be safe at home. I pressed his hand so he’d know how I felt. Then I unhitched my girdle, dove into […]Read More

Galaxies by Jenny Yu

      Artist Bio: Jenny Yu is a 19 year old illustration student at CSULB. She is a contributor to Mochi Mag, and is inspired by people, places, things, and the weird way we all exist.Read More

ISSUE N°1 SUMMER 2014

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The Case of Blaise by Eric Miles Williamson

     Blaise called himself a full-time alchemist and part-time composer, but as far as I knew, he couldn’t figure an A from a G on a banjo, probably couldn’t play a goddamn throat warbler or a kazoo. No one ever heard him play a note, and no one ever saw a score he’d written, […]Read More

Epitaph by Ishmael Reed

Epitaph HERE LIES EARTH MURDERED BY PROGRESS About the author: Ishmael Reed is author of twenty-nine books, including his tenth non-fiction work, Going Too Far: Essays About America’s Nervous Breakdown(2012); his tenth novel, Juice! (2011); six collected plays in Ishmael Reed, THE PLAYS (2009); and New and Collected Poems, 1964-2007 (2007). In addition he has edited […]Read More

Flagstaff by Tony R. Rodriguez

I pull into Flagstaff where I-17 merges into South Milton Road, just near Northern Arizona University. I think of my studies at San Francisco State University. I think of my various courses analyzing American Literature. My eyes then spy across the campus of Northern Arizona, and I see a name on one of the university’s […]Read More

Higher Planes of Light by Masin Persina

        Higher Planes of Light My frantic mind entered an acre Of sheep munching peace, and then It stepped back, then back again As their gazes turned upon me. I was back with my wants, my wants As needs that fill the space between Thoughts, so I kept thinking, But it petered out […]Read More

San Diego, California 1975 by Candace Eros Diaz

     Thanks so much for the ride, she said throwing her bags on the floor of the orange pickup truck.      No problem, Mateo said accelerating onto the 805 Freeway, where you headed?      Trying to get to San Francisco. How far you going?      Going to Fresno. Gonna visit my […]Read More

December 20th, 2010 by Rafer Roberts

  *For a closer view, go ahead and click on the comic and zoom. About the artist: Rafer Roberts is the man behind the comic book PLASTIC FARM and the comic strip NIGHTMARE THE RAT. His art has been seen in X-O MANOWAR and HARBINGER (Valiant Comics), LITTLE NEMO: DREAM ANOTHER DREAM (Locust Moon Press), HENRY […]Read More

Sardine Machine by Adam Cornford

SARDINE MACHINE (Monterey Bay Aquarium Kelp Forest) They shoal in sweep formation, swarming gleam with tail-flick wave through smooth curve like a wrist volplaning pivots, wheels, quick tinfoil stream- line motion shines a mirror-clouded twist; upspiraling, the myriad uncoils wide slowly to merge, a heartform of barbed glass in ripple assembly, pours to hanging glide, […]Read More

On Escape Never Being that Simple by Phillip Kobylarz

from Dimestore Paperback Memories     Winter is a mystery that can happen in a day. Never has there been a consummation or ceremony that doesn’t in some way symbolically involve snow, ice, frozen clouds of respiring weather. Virgin snow. Fresh-driven snow. Snow that at first falls miraculously, this Wonderful Life-ly, then after days and […]Read More

Flight by Daniel Romo

Birds cry and the wind replies, What of it? One by one they crash to the earth like leaden leaves. Wings become flapless and little more than diseased appendages, merely by the body’s side for show, as if to denote and condemn the futility of the soaring metaphor. Broken bodies pile like a metropolis of […]Read More

The Man Who Clicked by Jake Fuchs

    “Do you know how to talk?”      I asked this question because I had just asked him another one twice, different wording, same meaning, and he hadn’t said a single word.      “What are you doing in my driveway?” That was number one. Silence.      So then, “Look, buddy. Just […]Read More

Harry Dean Stanton by Lisa Douglass

  Harry Dean Stanton It was hot outside I was working at the Grill in Beverly Hills After work I slid up to the bar at Dan Tana’s and ordered a beer Harry Dean Stanton was there drinking me one for one He drank silent like me I said, “you must hear this all the […]Read More

East Bay Punk Show Trading Cards by Alex Herrington

*For a closer view, go ahead and click on the comic and zoom. About the artist: Alex Herrington is the Art Director for The East Bay Review.Read More

Las Manos De Mis Padres by John Olivares Espinoza

         Las Manos De Mis Padres      Once, the backs of Dad’s hands were smooth, like a panther’s tail, like a jaguar’s coat.      Years of work turned the skin into leather that shines like polished Florsheims.      The hash marks left by the bramble bush thorns are perpetually […]Read More

A Dead Man's Name by Jesse Steele

  Act 1: And All That Came FirstThere was the war and mom and 21 gunsMom collects a flag and I got a dead man’s nameThose were the first things.Then there was the cigarette and the other cigarette and the borrowed knifeThe book and the good book, and the preacher with the soft voiceSure, that […]Read More

L.R. Californicus by Tennessee Reed

PART I It is around 1:00 PM on May 6, 2013 I, the Mearns bobcat species of California, west of Sierra Nevada, am minding my business, hunting in the tall grass near the Marin Headlands Arts Center for insects, rabbits, small rodents and deer It is unusual for me to hunt at this time of […]Read More

So John Spits by Mark Rapacz

           He’s running now. He’s off like a gazelle. Or, not quite like a gazelle. There was a time in his life when he ran gazelle-like. Or, had moments where he could achieve a gazelle-like bound, but now with his age, his job, his wife demanding children, his competitive years decidedly […]Read More

Honeymoon by John Kinhart

From Sorry Comics *For a closer view, go ahead and click on the comic and zoom. About the artist: John Kinhart is an artist and film director who studied at the Maryland Institute College of Art, where he received his Bachelor’s Degree in Fine Art in 2001. Kinhart is best known for his online autobiographical comic […]Read More