AWP is only 2 weeks away. We will be there. Will you? We’re looking forward to seeing old friends, contributors, and new friends. Stop by and say hello.

First up this week is an excerpt, at Hobart, from Scott McClanahan’s Sarah Book – THE BIRTH CHAPTER. From the excerpt:

And if you were to find this child today and touch that lightning bolt, it would be like touching the hand of god.  But Sarah says now from somewhere far away.  But Scott you don’t believe in god.  And I say this.  True, but I believe in lightning bolts and babies and the stealing of fire.

Another excerpt, this one by Mike Meginnis, from his novel FAT MAN AND LITTLE BOY, over at The Airship.

Jill Talbot – a SDL favorite and contributor to Issue Four – has a haunting new essay at Hobart – WHIPPING POST:

“…it was the PhD you were trying to outrun, undo.  Because you understood bartenders in black jeans and smoky-voiced strangers better than any line of critical theory. Your father once told you that you wanted a man who could take his tie off and have a good time. Maybe.”

There’s a new issue of Octopus magazine and it has this wonderful poem by Heather Christle – POEM FOR BILL CASSIDY. There’s also Molly Brodak with OUROBOROS.

Sundog Lit favorite J.A. Tyler has a new story up at Green Mountains Review – OURSELVES AND THIS ONCE EMPTY HOUSE.

There are 2 new poems by Caroline Crew & Chris Emslie in Souvenir.

This is a big week for great poetry. Here’s Carleen Tibbetts with 2 new poems in Inter|rupture.

Cheap Pop keeps putting out great work. Here’s the ever-great Jared Yates Sexton with THE MOMENT BEFORE THE EARTH WAS DESTROYED.

Always so stoked about a new issue of ILK Journal. Always full of greatness. Here are 2 poems from Emily O’Neill. Something from YOUR HEAVEN IS MORE CONTRIVED THAN MINE:

My angels sing Britney
singles in flat, nasal tones. They hustle pool. They’ll absolutely take you
home. They are topless, sitting on the bathroom sink, shifting their hips,
taunting, you’ll never get this pussy, and you want to prove them wrong
but it’s not important to touch.

And, finally, this poem by Brett Elizabeth Jenkins – TO GET TO ZEN – at Paper Darts.

That’s a start, yeah? Get your lit on. See you next week.