/06/03/2009/

M101 Limited: Carlos Lopez

I/you want something that is uncomplicated but not something a priori uncomplicated, rather something yet to be complicated. Something who is someone subject to temporality, not yet fallen but in sight of, grasping for, wary of the hole, the vortex, the abyss. I/you want something who is someone who will fall, inexorably, toward me/you, toward complication. I/you want a virgin.

/02/15/2009/

Three Flash Fictions: Shome Dasgupta

Francis and the Seagull and the Urn: I was looking at this branch, and I always thought it was a branch, until it flew away…

D’Angelo and Tanesha: D'Angelo’s father, Perry, and Tanesha’s father, Lorenzo, both were deeply involved in falcon-fights.

Me and the Pelican: I met this pelican four days ago, while taking a walk along the Pacific Coast beach.

Shome Dasgupta holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Antioch University-Los Angeles. His fiction, poetry, and nonfiction have appeared in print and online journals, including Word Riot, Cafe Irreal, Bartleby Snopes, DiddleDog, Dogzplot, Kartika Review, MeadoW, Magma Poetry, Shelf Life Magazine, Gertrude Press, Sylvan Echo, and The Footnote.

/01/10/2009/

Like Mother Like Son: Joel Kopplin

He remembered sitting with her in the living room as a child. The stack of coloring books with his favorite cartoon characters and the box of worn crayons. He remembered her sitting at a small, collapsible coffee table with wobbly metal legs, her canvases carefully laid out. The bottles of watercolors neatly lined up for easy access next to the container of cloudy water and the folded paper towel with blotches of pastel and moisture.

The Maiden Voyage of the Aborville Saloon: Nick Woolums

The surface of the water was tinted green, reflecting the pale sky. The very tops of the trees, whose branches had been picked clean of leaves by the storm, slightly jutted out of the water like an old man’s frail fingers. Soon they disappeared under the water, and Scott began to move freely along with the current. For a while he could hear the tree branches clawing at him from underneath the floor as he passed. He fell asleep to that sound, but only after he became more tired than he was afraid.

Armistice Day: Kurt Milberger

Arthur looked at the letters and graphics printed on the flyer taped to his door. Two ships shooting off fireworks, a boy and a girl playing with a kite, and a Civil War cannon beside a pile of cannon balls. Next to the cannon, a large cake twinkling with candles. He’d never heard of anyone celebrating Armistice Day, but any excuse to spend time with Melinda filled him with a warm bubbly feeling.