Flannelled, freezing,
and iPhone compatible,
we re-paint the streets
with lines of Adderall
and stage our acrobatics
with subtle instamatics
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Category Archives: Issue 3
Issue 3 was edited by Michelle Penaloza, Eric Boyd, and Ashley Ford.
Fiction by Sharon Yablon
The Caller The 1920s apartment building on the corner of Geary and Hyde was abandoned. San Francisco had forgotten about it. This oversight allowed for a small group of runaway kids to squat there. Takeout menus littered the front steps. Hidden somewhere in the small yard was a plaster-of-paris gnome with a shamrock hat. A … Continue reading
Fiction by Marina Mularz
The plan was really a three-part process. Scope out the wild of Cherapunjee and get a feel for the landscape. Cover himself in leaves or toucan dung or something equally rugged and ambush the beast. Board a flight back home and hand Trixie the camera and say, “This is for you, now give me my last name back…” Continue reading
Poetry by Amber Shockley
The idea that now he could see us, hear us,
know all that we thought. Terrifying,
and too much power for a boy’s soul;
just yesterday he was a Boy Scout.
But maybe that’s the reward for feeding
your flesh to flames: clairvoyance.
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Poetry by Eddie Kim
Dying towns are filled with ghosts
of the people who inhabit them, not celestial bodies.
But what are we to the moon, if not celestial?
Could we be heavenly?
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Poetry by Roberto Ascalon
we both know what it means to shudder, pregnant
with delight at the blue veined banquet of belly, we
both kick husbands sprawling as we kneel between
their wives’ spread legs, agape with the slush of life
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Non Fiction by Marta Szabo
Quickly, there are rides, all with men. It never takes more than a couple of minutes for someone to stop and I am zipping through Washington, then Oregon. One man picks me up in northern California. He’s just a few years older than me. There are empty soda cans rolling around the floor of his black Camaro. Maybe he will fall in love with me. Maybe he has a life I could join. Continue reading
Poetry by EJ Koh
A man who drinks between my long white columns/
tastes history: the first time I/ touched my breasts,/
then below, when I changed into an/ ocean from a dam—/
my belly a sculptor of people, fed by/ the milk-springs/
of my mountains. Continue reading
Fiction by Clayton Truscott
Phillipa didn’t seem like the sort of person who kept a seagull in the freezer. I was looking for ice at three in the morning when I found it, right behind the microwavable meals and fish sticks. Continue reading
Nonfiction by Isaiah Zeke Swango
He always insisted that barbeque was meant to be eaten with one’s hands—anything more and you were deemed a sham, just another half-assed pretender at life. Sweet Baby Ray’s served as blood while I was taught to pop bones from sockets, and like a fledgling under the wing of a hawk, I tore at things once living beneath my father’s cool shadow. Continue reading
The James Franco Review 