*translated from French The house I grew up in is like a tree house, only without the tree. It’s as cute as can be, and whenever you look at [...]
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and it's a sad decline introverted romance in our troubled minds a trying pine depending on good fortune or coincidence all the time Spread out on my twin bed, hiding [...]
The latest novel by Lithuania’s Sigitas Parulskis breaks new ground both for the author and for his readers. Tamsa ir partneriai (Darkness & Co., Alma Littera, 2012) is considered to [...]
[vc_row row_type="row" use_row_as_full_screen_section="no" type="full_width" angled_section="no" text_align="left" background_image_as_pattern="without_pattern" css_animation=""][vc_column][vc_column_text] Excerpted from The Murder of Halland Translation by Martin Aitken 1 The night before, we sat in the living room. I had a [...]
There are about two hundred million migrants roaming the planet at any given time, including those who move from one place to another by choice and those who are [...]
Excerpted from God Has No Grandchildren Translated from the Korean by Kang Sunok When Eun-jae called, I was jerking off in an attempt to lift my spirits. I was [...]
1. Scale From his window seat on the plane he looks out over the ocean, which looks like a tangle of lines in this light. The light makes the [...]
A month after they married, Kevin found a job. “What a relief,” he said, and everyone agreed, though it was only a year-long contract. It meant relocating to Indiana. [...]
for me & them & us I & it can happen in the house & it can happen in the pub & it can be in the dinner conversation [...]
Everglades in High Heat mangroves like finger bones dipping into tea stained water warped and bent gators are trained to follow the whirring fan so customers can snap photo [...]
RED washing down decongestants with cold coffee reading ur glistening emails just a free-floaty fragment without a torso as if what I was possessed by was your missing arm [...]
THE RINGMASTER for CK Williams The ringmaster, gaunt in his overalls, seventeen feet tall with a cigarette, leans on the big top. The lions are early, the tamer, late. [...]
Winter in the Wismar 1 Rain bloats the city, sets my marrow to wax. My neighbour's beard is stained an ochre O. I rarely leave. The shrill birds echo [...]
SARDINE SPINE Never have I seen vertebrae so small, so white like a strand of pearls without luster, unclasped. The spine is tenuous, made for a touch more tender [...]
Those things didn’t happen at once, me seeing her body and hearing the child soldier, and yet I remember them simultaneously.
Eva was our only teacher those first few weeks. She had a quicksilver mind and a passionate spirit. Colorful earrings dangled against her jaw where her skin sagged just slightly, the only clue to her years of experience. She pushed us to take chances—to communicate in whichever way we could.
Being a writer is all about making mistakes and managing disappointment. Let’s say you are going on a road trip. You get, say, a hundred miles down the road and you realize that you have left your wallet back home on the kitchen table. You have no choice but to go back and get it. But how’s your attitude?
QUIET INDUSTRY I am sucking on pearls and roasting pears on my body. the vibrant splendour of lilac season is fleeting as a love affair leaves me lush and [...]
FROM NOTHING GRANTED who wants to be why God doesn’t come her neck [...]
ON LEAVING BERLIN I sold all my books for a rock of butter and a glass of almond milk A rock and an almond traded for all those hours [...]
LOGICAL POSITIVISM Oh, these gorgeous days, whatever's the opposite of pathetic fallacy. The glorious milkdrop sun; the walnut heart's rotten meat. . HERON If only I were a heron, [...]
Magda sends her ex to me and he shows up showered and clammy. Magda is six foot in work heels and billed herself as Jessica, as in Rabbit, way before [...]
translated from the French by Adrianna Hunter People were “bridging” Ascension Day with the weekend and taking the Friday off. Neither Juliette nor Olivier was working. And the children didn’t [...]
On the street a man reached out and touched my father's shoulder. “Sir! Hey Sir! Sir!” he said to my father. When my father turned to face him the man [...]
I am cleaning out my father’s office. A room frozen in time since his accident. His cell phone still on the charger, papers still in the fax machine where he [...]
FUCKING DAFFODILS I turned off. Leaky spout my mind was. I turned off and kept the lights on while I slept. We fucked like deer in prairie grass: camouflaged, [...]
CUPIO DISSOLVI a 30 ft. statue of the magyar riding horseback and my sister climbs it in a flimsy party dress panties showing hoists herself right up the tail [...]
Hi. I’m Charles. So. You love the biz, I love the biz. Welcome. Cut… Too smiley. You don’t have to be so nice. Again in, 5…4…3…2… … I’m Charles. [...]
by Bükem Reitmayer Romcoms, for the most part, are popcorn movies—sugar for the masses. What my dad calls chick flicks. But the romcom is one of the most enduring film [...]
Fireflies of the Apocalypse It seems natural that I should want to keep my blood, want teeth and closed circles here in lakefront country. I step into the cool [...]
excerpt from Baveuse (2015), available at Electric Cereal WOMEN WRINKLE You have to be passive to wear Silk . Touching Louise Bourgeois’s spider sculpture was exciting, almost sexual. Ryan didn’t [...]
During the war they spit and shit and peed in a metal container with rubber clamps at its sides as the turret of their tank scanned the burning fields [...]
510 Permanence of five o'clock At the in-laws', tired Sunday, Where the light rams down Into soupy, roadside weed, Where the chickadees chatter about A sop of misty seed: [...]
I Four girls were crowded around Linda with a phone receiver pressed to her ear. Their faces were excited and free in ways she had only ever experienced secondhand, and [...]
CONTINUATION A trend of weather emerges: decomposition. The lake is frozen now, the fish strangled. Any weeds, any green there was, flattened by a cap of glass. The fallen [...]
 Like this, in darkness, and the world that lived within us is a palace made of glass. SAADI YOUSSEF At night only the sky glows. It lights up houses, [...]
by Bükem Reitmayer Publishing is a labour of love. No one gets into it for the money or fame. Often it is a side project, something done in the wee [...]
First the town was because of the port, people brought things and then other people left with other things. But then very quickly other ports opened, and these were bigger [...]
In 1979, I glanced into a store window and saw an old guy with enormous glasses strapped to his big, bald, egg-shaped head sitting behind a large desk surrounded by leafy plants and book cases arranged in a sort of diorama.
After the abortion Sam and I end up at the Weeki Wachi, an amusement park with real live mermaids. We park our truck and get seated in front of this [...]
EARLY EVOLUTION Be a doll now, you say, and I am become one I pluck a flock raw for its plumage Strip, I say, and birds strip bare I [...]
Listen- Buffalo Bill has a secret. He’s dying. All day, too many times to count, he finds a way back to our travel wagon where I witness his struggle [...]
It's a one-piece I found from one of those Halloween shops that are suckers for people like me who haven't found the time to go out of their way [...]
Al gives me zero. All day long he sits glued to his armchair, drinking glass after glass of V-8 juice and making a mess with his crackers. The crumbs [...]
Sophia read something on the internet about people who were in love who engraved their names on locks and attached the locks to bridges and then threw away the [...]
Originally appeared in La Quinzaine littéraire, numéro 363, 16/31-1-1982. Translated by Madeleine Maillet It took a serious enough depression, lasting several months, for me to get past the first fifty [...]
Elephant Man: Dark Matter Joseph-called-John moves between the pillars on the stage to glimpse the pixies in the lights before him. He creeps close to them and asks every [...]
SO GROUNDED For Irene Koronas I cling to objects, for example: a leather-bound book, almanacs, sprigs of dried mints. I would like to build a museum like Pamuk has [...]
TRANSLATED BY Julia Johanne Tolo Tired, unquenchable, taut against a blanket of warm wool. Jitter like heavy fire back and forth through my body, burning me dry. All this time [...]
SAND PIPERS Chuck clamshells at them for acting mindlessly, these little joggers in bird suits, talons tapping the glass tabletop of ocean spill. They chirp, bicycle miles of sine [...]
It's the best I can do—to catch myself if I fall, to not break my teeth.
The internet is just a couple of boxes in Utah— every summer at Bonneville, land speed records
We wrestle at the limits of forgiveness, always more to say that's not worth the saying.
I went to the Yankee Candle Factory with Joseph. I bought a candle called “Autumn Leaves”. By the time I reached the bottom of the wick, all the leaves in my yard had changed colors. I had not expected this.
You feel sick about it. You don't say it in the letter, but you are annoyed with your boyfriend for not recognizing a deal even though you made it [...]
“I think we need it. All of us,” she says, serious for a second because that’s what divorce does, but she doesn’t let it linger, “we’ll go back to France, [...]
To anyone who’s ever walked around it, to anyone there right now, lay down your stones, the pyramid does not point north.
Ormond enters by stairs leading directly from the street. He raps hard against the heavy wooden door. Or perhaps he only walks along the corridor, studying the faces that peer [...]
Tuesdays they go to Ikea for lunch. Mac and cheese for Winston, fish for his mother. Afterwards they walk through the showroom. “Or else you get fat,” Winston’s mother says. [...]
Blue sparks flash through the windows of the sleepless as the last train scrapes the elevated rails and rumbles away into the glowing orange dark.
WHAT ABOUT THE GAY PENGUINS AND THEIR TINY UNHATCHED EGG
The truth about the coat I traded half my records for
I turn the corner and someone has been here, picking up clover, invading front lawns, rebelling against privacy. A rat’s corpse as slender as a leaf lies at my [...]
I cannot describe the perfect bruises and bite marks on your arm, but Elizabeth Bishop could.
Here I have wept. Mold on the walls, roar of the hard, divine sentence on the weak and the lost.
About craving, about arthritic haunches on big dogs the distance between childhood and that second thigh
MAHLER’S NINTH Gone, the pile of shut black mouths bowled in cold water. Gone the thyme and tang of shallot, as the garlic burns in the oil. They whir [...]
There is a roof one man’s body makes over another. Pine needles on sharp grains. This is what I remember.
My carriage spills waste. Brown lachrymose blood along crotchlines. My carriage spills waste. Metabolized yellow.
Feminists fuck like a real man You’re always unfastening buttons you don’t need to.
(A skilled calligrapher will tell you that they should “give the impression of a sail filled by the wind.” But a poor first stroke, and the others will “look like lost cotton wads tossed by the wind.”)
Never past the pink concrete altar where roasted the Christmas pig Never under a hush, slipping off my shoes, letting you check the door first
Winner of the 2015 SLS MTL Flash Fiction Prize Clap taps my shoulder; rubs my hair and calls me baby; holds her breath under the covers before coming up for [...]
I try to be quiet, but there’s always a little dog that can’t help running through their room, his little toenails tapping the floor and the door creaking with wooden [...]
The first time I smoked speed, I felt my lungs expand so wide that they took in an entire tropical sea filled with miniature sea creatures that swam up and [...]
Housecat misses Thanksgiving, Christmas, Father’s Day, Sunday Brunch, Grandpa visits, birthdays. Housecat almost misses Grandma’s funeral in Harlem. Housecat misses paying you back when you loan him a hundred dollars for weed. Housecat misses your call when you need a ride to the airport.
Dad was standing in the bedroom doorway, a large, shiny petrified fish labored under his right arm. “Take Dolores, son, and give her to your mom.” “Really?” “She always loved [...]
When the old coot with the nicotine-stained teeth asked the question, I knew we were headed back to the good ol’ days. I have no problem with that. I love [...]
It is the morning of the Spring Blossom Ball and — while it it is true that I may yet snap an ankle waltzing in the dress rehearsal, or [...]
and I guess it looked bad or looked–– how boyish
I pick plums from a tree in your backyard for breakfast and brush the fur off with my nightgown.
I misread “so many people killing it this month” as “so many people killing this month.”
like ~ the space between magnets I blossom
The almonds I think grew slowly on a tree (a wild almond tree) along a curved road near a rounding hill, perhaps in Lebanon, but that may not be—no mind.
…and none of them useful or meritorious a much-scraped palimpsest of things–lives, maybe–
I wanted it to be like a movie where interrogation leads to advanced interrogation and what you learn in school
He is ryegrass. The voices of his heart like tensed wings; ripples in the serum of a stoppered vial. Death is the only word in any language sleeping won't spoil.
“Looker,” Peggy said as I hustled Gilligan’s order to Jailbait, our 16-year-old grill chef and the boy Peggy slept with off and on. Peggy had a thirteen-year-old son and a husband who’d turned funny after his return from Gulf War Number 1.
After driving Daddy home as gently as I could, so as not to jostle his aching noggin, I asked Guy about their night together. He said it had gone fine, but then I reminded him that I’d sent him with a purpose in mind.
I still haven’t finished my screenplay, and I have to admit I don’t know how. Why is my life important enough to write a script about? Why is anyone’s?
After a time, the figure settled back down into his former place, became one of the bodies on the floor, unable on the one hand to discern a path in the jigsaw, unable on the other to force what will he did possess upon them. Then again, perhaps he had been afraid his warm gap on the floor would close.
"Water? Coffee? Tea?" the receptionist asked. I asked for water. She returned with a small bottle and a rocks glass on a wooden tray. She set the tray on the coffee table in front of the couch, poured the water from the bottle into the glass, set the glass down on a coaster then left with the tray and the empty bottle.
the body so like surgeons or Michelangelo we dissected dogs and cats and called it art and took our pictures with the work and turned this fear to wonder
or butterflies. blunt sides of pins. the polyester blanket soaked
MOSCOW SUBURB Blocks of gray buildings in Tyoplyi Stan a windy suburb in the southwest of Moscow where Napoleon’s army used to burn fires to try to survive the [...]
For Tibor Gábor Gajdics, 1930-2014 Stewed plums in cottage cheese dumplings squirt sweet explosions in my mouth. I left my flat on Wesselényi utca beside the Dohány Street Synagogue and [...]
She has passover in the lower case She has angel belief she sends ahead and thinks she hears bowling some night storms
Dawn outside his chambers disintegrates, retreats, Anxious, breath unwholesome, like the stricken man.
She slid off the counter and in front of her mirror began applying my lip gloss to her beautiful, wide mouth with its curling, upper lip that now looked like a beckoning finger. She wore a sly expression, watching me watch her. She placed the tube of lotion I had given her with her pile of things. I didn’t say anything. I was unsure what tone to take.
Plus, there was something so unexpectedly exciting about being together that we wanted to explore it without everybody watching. So we kept it quiet and, as I say, for two months, we'd been going strong.