Category: creative writing
-
On Surviving A Crackhead In The BLDG by Julia Taveras
I am her. Her blood flows from my pen. Her cries tremble inside my eyes and they flood with rage. “This house is but a butchery/ Fear it, abhor it/ Do not enter it.” Shakespeare was talking about structure on this one; our structure. Social structures: the ones that shun those without title or consumption…
-
‘along the happenstance of thought’ by phillipe chatelain
along the happenstance of thought do thoughts drown while asleep like a shark in place! the light doesn’t reach them completely. they float
-
III. It wants more to be glad…by G. Mramor
I can already feel your disgusting inside. It grows and makes me grow. But still I am a little thing you say. And because I am a little thing I cannot hold you back and not even my disgusting makes you sad. Because you are a part of me now like I was part of…
-
II. Like beating the scarecrow by the lake…by G. Mramor
I cannot sleep, I will not wake. Through the walls I hear the beating. Like hitting something empty, like hitting something stiff: like beating the scarecrow by the lake. And then the water comes. It bunches the glass and stops my bleeding, like the tree now gone who blocked the water. Then I will be…
-
I. This is what you say…by G. Mramor
Nothing you say is thrown aside, but thrown inside. Thrown inside to settle in with all the other things you have said and done. Thrown to scatter and create. To grow a sapling and then a tree until there is nothing but forest in me. Let nothing die and no one live. This is what…
-
Serious Question (If I Had a Heart) by Carmen Guzmán
Carmen Guzmán is a writer from Puerto Rico living in Boston. By day: a Boston University alumnae of the film and television program who blogs and shoots videos for a non-profit. By night:an expediter at a restaurant in Cambridge who enjoys a good whiskey. In her head: another story. How Many Cups Of Coffee Does…
-
“Stay Awhile, Mephistopheles” by Jessica Van de Kemp
Stay Awhile, Mephistopheles by Jessica Van de Kemp He is a man without a moniker, a polyhistor, an artist of experience. To him, the world is all colour and smell, music and light. The ceilings of his memory are vaulted and there are Florentine frescoes if you like.
-
AIDS: A Love Story (Hannah B. Ragland)
Hannah Beth Ragland is an aspiring artist, writer, and designer. She is currently studying creative writing at Florida State University, working odd jobs, and running an etsy shop. She collects old books and houseplants. AIDS: A Love Story We were sick, and we were in love. That was how it was supposed to be –…
-
Fireworks in the Afternoon…by B. Bullock
I hate to love to be reminded of you, you carting around those fragile flowers in those trembling teenage hands, fingernails cruelly cut and soiled like you’d been off digging in some foreign country’s hot volcanic sand, smiling wearily at my wild hair, the surprise in my eyes, fighting a flinch at my sneezes spreading…
-
For now or for always…by G. Mramor
Young and thinking a name is forever. Fore after years snowblind the snow has settled and runnels down in icy blue flows and rivers past my feet, colding the memory in me. Yet the oldman can only smile. Fore that mountain of ice and snow has become this valley’s basin. A cold blue that warms…
