As we stood at the water’s edge, the borrowed sun climbed down behind Bear Mountain. We commanded time to be ours forever. Sheltered among the tree line shadows, Sam and I baptized ourselves Wild Wind and Fire Sky with holy-magic water from the river. Angry, powerful, ancient native names we believed to be so clever and brave.
I wasn’t in Colorado, but on a windy beach in California
under the same blues and grays, the day you asked me
if I thought you were affectionate enough with her.
Only a child, I could think of no answer for you then
The only reason Marcy had taken this job was that once she had announced to her family that she was taking a year off, they had insisted that she work. Without a degree, this was the job she could find. She was a fashion design major and had put together her portfolio online and had submitted it to an agency. The agency found her this company: Costbelow.
However, as a coroner in Wichita said, “Was no rhyme or reason for all of it. Makes for the worst kind of criminal to investigate because there was no recognizable pattern or motive, unless you limit yourself to extreme psychosis. The only people we know of about your aunt was that there is no record of her ever having killed a child. Still, we only know what we know and there may be other victims out there that will never be claimed.”
Shadows grew longer until the final hours of daylight when she got in the mask and flippers to watch the other world again. Rocks glowed orange at dusk and she supposed his aura of self-importance was insignificant. She definitely didn’t need him and his stupid ego.
At least we have a good issue for you all. It's nice to be back in the saddle, even if I lapse in email replies and 24 hour turnarounds every so often. Please enjoy these features, some of which waited a long time to get here.
My grandfather wasn’t happy when they turned our family home into a shack to make more space for the fields. My dad said he understood what Speakeasy Solutions needed to do and that was send a lot of the crops all around to feed the remaining people after those nuclear blasts.
IT'S GOOD, ACTUALLY / Beyond the Blowjob: Re-examining The Brown Bunny / Eliott Klug
When someone puts so much of themself into a film, it’s easy to assume that film embodies the ideology and values of its creator. This is, to a degree, true. Like Clint Eastwood before him, the beauty of a conservative creative like Gallo is his immense skill in interrogating the flaws inherent to his beliefs.
I think it’s sweet the way he’s dancing tonight. I’ve been standing at the ‘bar’, which is just a guy sitting on a cooler, ‘getting us a beer’ for the last 10 minutes watching him. Part of the appeal is doing the same thing over and over again for hours, very slowly. He and I are going to breakup, I know that, but that’s neither here nor there I don’t think.
The woman’s split lips seals like a tire
plugged by a roadside Samaritan.
The linen closet door opens, pushes the woman’s
head away, propels her body up the stairs.
and I find myself in a multi-season show
with many incomplete arcs for many forgotten guest stars.
And 36 is not old but it’s old enough
to see life being done to me
I’m recalling my professor, Horace Coleman, a poet
who once christened Black America the engine under
the hood of Thomas Jefferson’s America. I know my
father. However, I’m learning what it takes to get him
to lose the Confederate flag. It’s quiet. Then he laughs.
As usual, he closed the kitchen door behind him in the morning light. But he didn’t slip into his rumpled sedan to go to work. Rather, he hurried round the block, his signature cap almost leaping from his head. He never runs, she thought, ever, and this titillated her. For a moment she forgot her annoyance and shared his excitement.
If Mitch had a dollar for every time a troubled kid had said they were okay, he could have gotten a jump on retirement like Roxanne. “Open the door and let me see you, Kelli. To make sure everything is cool,” says Mitch, backing away from the door.
My grandfather touched his children with
a staff of wisdom. My father would sing and sing
of the banana tree’s grief.
At the time, these events rarely bothered me. I had my head in the clouds and distractions aplenty. Also, for all my capacity for fantasy, I found it impossible to imagine a different world, a world in which I had a “normal” amount of friends, a world in which I could comfortably talk to people.
Her family, those she loves, expect no less of her, she thinks, now. They knew- no, expected, she would be there, day in and day out. Like the sun, she had always risen to the occasion, shining brightly on those around her, while those she shone upon lounged beside the pool of life, slugging down margaritas and splashing joyfully, soaking it all in.
I sat tongue in cheek with a preschool nod
singing Yes, Pastor! imposter smile with the same canine teeth
I’d use to rip myself anew.
There’s a delicious quality about a Southern twang, especially when it’s bouncing off a plastic dartboard and sifting through cigarette smoke. In Eufaula, the backroads claim more than virginities and empty beer cans. They are red clay rivers when it rains and Mars dust dancefloors when it doesn’t.