cosmonautsavenue

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So far cosmonautsavenue has created 809 blog entries.
30 05, 2018

Brandon Melendez | Poetry

2018-11-03T01:36:58+00:00

“if Rome had fallen here, this desert/would have made it look like the most miraculous/& inviting smoke.” “if Rome had fallen here, this desert/would have made it look like the most miraculous/& inviting smoke.”

Brandon Melendez | Poetry2018-11-03T01:36:58+00:00
30 05, 2018

Kimberly Reyes | Poetry

2018-11-26T18:26:03+00:00

“He grabs and grabs your hand and you keep going, daring and bargaining and begging for grace, trapped in all the muck and fluidity of the in between space.”

Kimberly Reyes | Poetry2018-11-26T18:26:03+00:00
30 05, 2018

Michelle Lyn King | Nonfiction

2018-11-03T01:35:42+00:00

"Well, that shut me right up. He had told me before that I sounded crazy, that I was acting crazy. This time was different. I was crazy, plain and simple. I excused myself to use the bathroom and turned on both the sink faucet and the shower head. I was not going to let him hear me cry."

Michelle Lyn King | Nonfiction2018-11-03T01:35:42+00:00
30 05, 2018

Ira Sukrungruang | Nonfiction

2018-11-03T01:35:33+00:00

When I was boy, you were a planet. Then you weren’t. You disappeared from the solar system, relegated to “other,” to “dwarf.” But I remember you, distant one. You are part of a family of the forsaken. In the end, you revolved around the sun like the rest of us.

Ira Sukrungruang | Nonfiction2018-11-03T01:35:33+00:00
30 05, 2018

Oscar Mancinas | Fiction

2018-11-03T01:35:14+00:00

"I don’t want to go out drinking with anyone. I want to drink, and for everyone to go bother Anna, instead. As the Phoenix desert glides by outside my window, I realize I haven’t seen Hermes or my home state in nearly ten years. His laugh is annoying as hell, but it also reminds me of a past life, I feel weirdly relaxed."

Oscar Mancinas | Fiction2018-11-03T01:35:14+00:00
30 05, 2018

Joseph Caceres | Fiction

2018-11-03T01:35:02+00:00

"All of a sudden I jumped in fright. My five-year-old cousin, Nina, was walking through the hallway like a resurrected corpse—the kind that search for brains in those low-budget movies we weren’t allowed to watch—and she crashed into me as I stood before the doorway of my father’s room."

Joseph Caceres | Fiction2018-11-03T01:35:02+00:00
30 05, 2018

Eleanor F. Jordan | Fiction

2018-11-03T01:34:48+00:00

"I could pretend that I’d like to make some sly comment about the tone of her legs or the nervous but somehow sexy pout on her face as she entered my closet-sized office– it seems appropriate somehow– but the truth is I find the idea nauseating. Call me new-fashioned, but I don’t care about your legs– I just want your credits. But I digress."

Eleanor F. Jordan | Fiction2018-11-03T01:34:48+00:00
30 05, 2018

Brittany Ackerman | Fiction

2018-11-03T01:34:36+00:00

"I was writing a movie script. I was taking calls about plotlines and character development in between shifts at the restaurant and singing hymns at Bible study. I was all in, as they say. I was all caught up, as it were. He wanted me to have a good time. When we walked into the lobby, a girl gave us waters with orange peels."

Brittany Ackerman | Fiction2018-11-03T01:34:36+00:00
29 05, 2018

Noah Weisz | Fiction

2018-11-03T01:34:28+00:00

"Grace backed into a corner near the door to keep practicing while the rest of us paired up. Two-person juggling, otherwise known as passing, is one of the things we do best at SOPWETT. Arms up, and down, and: one, two, three, four, pass, two, three, four, pass, two, three, four, pass, two, three, four…" "

Noah Weisz | Fiction2018-11-03T01:34:28+00:00
27 04, 2018

Maya McCoy | Nonfiction

2018-11-03T01:30:48+00:00

As a child in Ohio, I only heard so much about this war. I knew that there had been suffering. I knew that Ammah was affected by it—seeing her home after almost twenty years, her birthplace, broken apart in many ways. I understood that war meant irreversible change.

Maya McCoy | Nonfiction2018-11-03T01:30:48+00:00
27 04, 2018

Liz Howard | Nonfiction

2018-11-03T01:30:21+00:00

When your dentist pulls the wrong tooth, you will hold your own body at a distance. When your dentist lies about it, you will question what you know to be true—you will question your own sanity. When your dentist pulls the wrong tooth, you will sob for weeks about the pattern in your life of men taking something from you and insisting that they didn’t.

Liz Howard | Nonfiction2018-11-03T01:30:21+00:00
27 04, 2018

Stephanie Jimenez | Fiction

2018-11-03T01:30:13+00:00

Ricky brought two forty-ounce beers to the counter. Jonathan was tracing the hair of his chin strap. One day Ricky would grow facial hair like that too. He’d go even further, he’d grow a full beard and twist it into a point. He’d go wherever he liked and no one would dare kick him out.

Stephanie Jimenez | Fiction2018-11-03T01:30:13+00:00
27 04, 2018

Phoebe Glick | Fiction

2018-11-03T01:30:00+00:00

I remember when the macro eraser was itself contested for function. That was when the poets were still employed, and they were writing poems about justice. But then poetry was erased, so they started painting about justice.

Phoebe Glick | Fiction2018-11-03T01:30:00+00:00
27 04, 2018

Leah Johnson | Fiction

2018-11-03T01:29:53+00:00

I wonder if we say we love each each other for ourselves or for the people we’re saying it to. Or if we do it because we know we’re running out of time, like we must share it for fear of never sharing it. Or if it’s just another way to say I see you. Another way to be seen.

Leah Johnson | Fiction2018-11-03T01:29:53+00:00
27 04, 2018

Colter Ruland | Fiction

2018-11-03T01:29:47+00:00

Her name was Florida though she had never been there. Her mother really liked the name, the state too, the oranges and sunrays it conjured. One day you’re gonna visit for me and you’re gonna love it, her mother would say.

Colter Ruland | Fiction2018-11-03T01:29:47+00:00
26 04, 2018

Ali Rachel Pearl | Poetry

2018-11-26T18:29:33+00:00

“No. I drank the oldest lake because it was either drink that or the drink the oldest sea and I’d already drank the oldest sea a few months ago…"

Ali Rachel Pearl | Poetry2018-11-26T18:29:33+00:00
26 04, 2018

Christine Kandic Torres | Fiction

2018-11-03T01:29:33+00:00

Early in my relationship with Justin, back when we would cut whole days of ninth grade and spend them burrowing into each other underneath bedsheets of whichever friend’s parents weren’t home that day, he’d told me that Hector had taught him how to masturbate in the fifth grade.

Christine Kandic Torres | Fiction2018-11-03T01:29:33+00:00
31 03, 2018

Ploi Pirapokin | Fiction

2018-04-23T11:15:25+00:00

“She’s doing better off without us,” his father said. “It’s this guy right here that has to pick up his shovel and dig for the family.”

Ploi Pirapokin | Fiction2018-04-23T11:15:25+00:00
31 03, 2018

Ashely Adams | Non Fiction

2018-04-23T11:15:25+00:00

Did you know you can hear it? It’s the simplest thing. Adjust an old radio or analog TV; listen for the static between channels. There, nestled in the white noise between the country music station and talk radio, are the echoes of creation.

Ashely Adams | Non Fiction2018-04-23T11:15:25+00:00
31 03, 2018

Audrey Deng | Non Fiction

2018-04-23T11:15:25+00:00

“Les escargots, s’il vous plait,” I said confidently to the waiter. “Such a tourist,” said my dinner companion once the waiter left with our orders. “Better tourist than exile,” I replied. “Better exile than stupid,” he said.  You’re paying,” I said. (We ended up splitting the bill.)

Audrey Deng | Non Fiction2018-04-23T11:15:25+00:00
31 03, 2018

Ingrid Jendrzejewski | Fiction

2018-04-23T11:15:25+00:00

Of all human experiences, loss has the most intense redness. When a hope is expelled from our bodies, grief expands within us: to us observers, everything appears to be the colour of blood.

Ingrid Jendrzejewski | Fiction2018-04-23T11:15:25+00:00
31 03, 2018

H.K. Williams | Fiction

2018-04-23T11:15:25+00:00

So banished to your room, curled up against the cold metal headboard you tried re-reading an old Nancy Drew. Instead you stared at the neighbour's dog as she ran up and down the red steps at the back of their house. She was the closest thing you had to a pet.

H.K. Williams | Fiction2018-04-23T11:15:25+00:00
31 03, 2018

Jessica Johns | Fiction

2018-04-23T11:15:26+00:00

When my sister finds her eulogy, she’s really not impressed. And she should have been quite happy, I think, considering I managed to come up with so many nice things to say about her.

Jessica Johns | Fiction2018-04-23T11:15:26+00:00
30 03, 2018

Valorie K. Ruiz | Fiction

2018-04-23T11:15:26+00:00

On his way to Alfie’s, Luisito stopped by the corner mart to pick up some Mickey’s. Forties on a noche like this, where the sol stays slaying skies until 8, there was nothing better.

Valorie K. Ruiz | Fiction2018-04-23T11:15:26+00:00
17 03, 2018

Tiny Spills | Naomi Jackson

2018-11-20T01:52:02+00:00

Tabs open on your screen right now: Instagram, iTunes (WuTang Clan, 36 Chambers of Death), FB, Twitter, Weather, Alarm, YouTube, etc. If you had to brag about yourself: My [...]

Tiny Spills | Naomi Jackson2018-11-20T01:52:02+00:00
27 02, 2018

Suiyi Tang | Essay

2018-03-01T12:33:55+00:00

i am the face of asian american racial justice, a mockery composed of: displacement and internal insistence on hegemonic modes of dominance, negation, and death familiar to the geopolitical histories of asia proper.

Suiyi Tang | Essay2018-03-01T12:33:55+00:00
27 02, 2018

Cornelia Barber | Essay

2018-02-28T17:38:42+00:00

The news is full of apocalypse. The girls are full to the brim with confidence, lightening, fear. Facebook sends me into spirals of anger and anxiety.

Cornelia Barber | Essay2018-02-28T17:38:42+00:00
27 02, 2018

Rani Neutill | Fiction

2018-02-27T10:43:12+00:00

Sunil gazed at Buku as they lay on a small cot that looked like a hospital gurney. A thick, sturdy mattress held their light weight, resilient and resistant to their shape, never bending to the sentient beings that occupied it.

Rani Neutill | Fiction2018-02-27T10:43:12+00:00
27 02, 2018

Gwaze Tafadzwa | Fiction

2018-02-28T17:36:53+00:00

He didn’t take and the lady looked at me like time being of the essence was a foreign concept to me. I was carrying everything I owned, of course time is of the essence. If it’s not for me, it’s not for anyone.

Gwaze Tafadzwa | Fiction2018-02-28T17:36:53+00:00
27 02, 2018

Ursula Villarreal-Moura | Fiction

2018-02-28T17:36:15+00:00

He returns every evening at 6 p.m. and asks if she's found a job yet. She has a part-time job, but it isn’t enough. Her husband expects her to work in a respectable office and wear high heels every day. He has a fantasy of them meeting at a pub for happy hour, both of them exhausted and full of work drama. Their twin martinis escape valves, sour tonics. 

Ursula Villarreal-Moura | Fiction2018-02-28T17:36:15+00:00
27 02, 2018

Aram Mrjoian | Fiction

2018-02-28T17:35:37+00:00

Our fear, then, was that all the swag came with an expectation of high quality. We couldn’t rely on improvisation forever. So on that fourth day, Sanders cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled out to the crowd, “Does anyone have any screenwriting experience?”

Aram Mrjoian | Fiction2018-02-28T17:35:37+00:00
27 02, 2018

Chika Onyenezi | Fiction

2018-02-27T01:31:06+00:00

I had seen Arthur around for a while, at this particular station. Whenever I was coming back from work, at night, he stood there, smoking, and whistling through his trimmed moustache.

Chika Onyenezi | Fiction2018-02-27T01:31:06+00:00
27 02, 2018

jayy dodd | Poetry

2018-11-26T18:50:06+00:00

maybe it is time for me to write poems for You. The Somebody Else. / i need to find a way to eat what comes out of me. The Wonder

jayy dodd | Poetry2018-11-26T18:50:06+00:00
31 01, 2018

TINY SPILLS | ZACH SAVICH

2018-11-02T12:55:37+00:00

While spending too long thinking about what constitutes a lie to oneself, I burned the tahini honey yogurt cake I am baking. It may have improved it.


TINY SPILLS | ZACH SAVICH2018-11-02T12:55:37+00:00
18 01, 2018

Maia Morgan | A Dozen Tiny Weapons

2018-03-25T14:09:39+00:00

I remember the dining room table, its vast gleam, the ring of faces. The kids have been excused. They’re watching illicit TV in the den or, if it’s summer, catching [...]

Maia Morgan | A Dozen Tiny Weapons2018-03-25T14:09:39+00:00
18 01, 2018

Sarah Cook | Non Fiction

2018-01-18T15:29:00+00:00

JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU MEAN: SILENCE, OR MISUNDERSTANDING 1. As a young girl, I did really well in school. But at every parent-teacher conference, the same thing was always [...]

Sarah Cook | Non Fiction2018-01-18T15:29:00+00:00
18 01, 2018

Sarah Sgro | Night Soil

2018-01-18T01:16:47+00:00

Shit is only loss so far as it concerns the individual (for it feeds the soil, for it builds the earth). Even then I have transformed. Even then I am [...]

Sarah Sgro | Night Soil2018-01-18T01:16:47+00:00
17 01, 2018

Marian Ryan | It Has Been 70 Years…

2018-01-22T12:12:24+00:00

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text] It Has Been 70 Years Since Eva Braun Was Incinerated Along with Her Underwear She takes the U-Bahn across town to visit him where he is cat-sitting for friends. [...]

Marian Ryan | It Has Been 70 Years…2018-01-22T12:12:24+00:00
17 01, 2018

Tim Raymond | The Leg

2018-01-22T12:11:43+00:00

I used my mom’s pink razor to shave my leg because I was too afraid to use Dad’s black one. I sat in the tub running warm water over my smooth calf. It was beautiful. That night, I rubbed my leg against my sheets until the pleasure of it was overwhelming.

Tim Raymond | The Leg2018-01-22T12:11:43+00:00
17 01, 2018

Ruth Gila Berger | A Flutter of Crows Will Do

2018-01-22T12:08:22+00:00

It is February in Minneapolis, a month of frozen mud and sodden wings, except now oddly warm enough, it rains an iron rain. My wife, Christi drives. Her tires sluice. Exhausted windshield wipers perform accidental beauty; the patterns they leave fracture our light.

Ruth Gila Berger | A Flutter of Crows Will Do2018-01-22T12:08:22+00:00
17 01, 2018

Marianna Nash | Many Oysters

2018-01-22T12:07:56+00:00

We walk past the old tenement where Anya’s great-aunt still lives, claiming the hole she tore in the world. Imagine if we all moved into Columbia Presbyterian! Someone probably has.

Marianna Nash | Many Oysters2018-01-22T12:07:56+00:00
17 01, 2018

Maddy Raskulinecz | Big Grins

2018-01-22T12:06:40+00:00

Jacob was trying to be alone with the alligator when his mother called him into the house for dinner. His mother didn’t know a thing about it; she didn’t even know the difference between an alligator and a crocodile.

Maddy Raskulinecz | Big Grins2018-01-22T12:06:40+00:00
17 01, 2018

Jessica Berger | Trophy

2018-01-22T12:03:29+00:00

He was my husband, but I called him dog. When he returned from the woods each passing dawn, from wherever it is that wild things go, he would whimper and scratch at the door.

Jessica Berger | Trophy2018-01-22T12:03:29+00:00