Issue Forty-Five of The Collagist is live – and, ROCKING, as usual. Read TINDER by Brian Kubarycz for some killer language-wielding:
As a lad of scant ambitions, he had coked hot quenchless fires in cave factories and watched on as the ablest of the gang poured molten ores into blackened troughs which coursed with liquid light. After working days burned to umber evening ash, he would be released and leave to learn to take in distillated spirits passed from rag to burlap rag, while seated, Sabbaths, in the devilmost hind pew of Sunday School.
Also, in The Collagist, read this beautiful essay by Matthew Gavin Frank (Issue One contributor), THE DAWNING OF THE BLUE CRAB:
Since his days off, Uncle, your aunt says, likes to be as inactive as possible. She tells you that the jellyfish, by the way that it floats, sees our world as upside-down. You watch the blue crabs rise to the top of the water. You watch Uncle stare at the ceiling. You wonder if, to the jellyfish, belly-up means alive.
Amanda Deo’s got 3 great prose poems up at Word Riot. Read them.
Matthew Salesses has IN MY WAR NOVEL over at New Graffiti. Beautiful, gritty, heart-wrenching:
In my war novel soldiers wouldn’t have time to abduct anyone. The war would go on forever, and war is busy. The soldiers would be busy dying. In my war novel the hero would die from something simple, like bad chicken or gas.
Sam Martone brings some great words in THE TOWN OF ZOOMINGALE, over at Monkeybicycle.
Laura Eve Engel’s wicked poem, ONE LAST THING BEFORE I GO, at Ink Node, folks:
Outside the crabapples haven’t moved,
they slip through stages of soft rot
until each turns to yard, Psst,
I’m frightened, says the iron fence
whose rot moves in and grips
more slowly, whose rust will strip
and sting and stay.