GOING ONCE, GOING TWICE
By Laci Mosier
They’ve stuffed everyone thigh to thigh into that windowless gymnasium. Dusty sunlight seeps in through the slits in the metal rafters, and the woman feels like she’s among a bunch of fish, salted and deboned and patiently waiting for someone to peel the lid back, please!
The woman’s child, gripping a wooden gavel, stands on an apple box at the podium. The child wears a tuxedo suit custom made by the child’s grandmother specifically for the occasion.
SOME ADDITIONAL LINES FOR FORTUNE COOKIES
—after Frank O’Hara
By Cecil Morris
Money will find you soon; it won’t be enough.
Wishes can be horses, but only if you feed and water them.
You will enjoy the best nap soon, a dream nap, a sleep deep and dream-free and restful as blue paint.
JOHNNY CASH ROSE FROM THE DEAD TO MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN
By Melinda J. Combs
Because of his burning desire to sing at Folsom Prison again, Johnny Cash came back a zombie. A vampire’s too risky in the Pen and a ghost can’t hold a guitar. Now, he’s walking the line of evil afterlife creatures. Something deep in his zombie-addled brain called to him, told him he needed to stop the prison riots, do an encore of Folsom Prison Blues.
SOME DREAM
By Josh Price
The American Dream is my dad on a slab, blue eyes melting into his skull; he isn’t worrying about dreaming now. His eyes are seeing the universe for the first time.
I stare at his picture, hoping to remember what was good in him. Life doesn’t come clean.
My house is an old world, new things piled on the floor collecting dust made of human skin once capable of touch—not good or bad anymore.
I go outside and pick a direction, start moving—bipedal motion. Easier, the older you get, realizing what we’re walking towards.
/haSH/
VERB:
To come to an agreement on something, normally after a lengthy and vigorous discussion.
NOUN:
A mixture of jumbled incongruous things; a mess.
Concentrated resin from the top of a female marijuana plant.
A meal made from a collection of ingredients thrown into a pot or pan.
A literary journal where we’re all trying our best. And publishing some writing we think is neat.
WE LOOK FOR HONESTY
Honestly! Or… maybe we should say Emotional Honesty. What is truth anyway? 70% more men and 45% fewer women were saved during the sinking of the Titanic than any living eye witness reported. Time is an illusion and perception is dependent upon individual experiences.
All we know is we want to believe your story. Even if it’s about a man turning into a bug, an optometrist veteran who travels through time and space, or a young queen discovering a snowy world behind a collection of coats in a wardrobe.
WE BELIEVE IN ACCESSIBILITY
We are proud to present our journal’s content free of charge on the world wide web.
Art is for the people. Families don’t live in towers, they gather around tables.
We are also a small press and we appreciate any and all support you can provide in exchange for these incredible works of literature! If the price is too steep and you want to purchase one of our titles, reach out! Our work is to be shared.
WE DIG EVERYDAY PEOPLE
That’s the kind of attitude we’re all about. Come as you are.
Like the old Sly & The Family Stone song “Everyday People”. Or the Diana and the Supremes / Aretha Franklin / Joan Jett song. (Please don’t remind us about the Maroon 5 version.) It goes like,”The butcher, the banker, the drummer and then / Makes no difference what group I'm in / Different strokes for different folks / And so on and so on and scooby dooby dooby” and so on (and scooby dooby dooby).
We’re interested in good stories, whoever they may be from. Unless you’re an asshole. Then you can fuck off.