May 13th, 2018

REDEMPTION

BY LISA QUIGLEY

 

It’s cold, in the dark. You must understand this.

I’ve been formless for so long. The others are always in and out of humans, but you mustn’t fault them. We have a need. We have been deprived. It is our instinct. It is in our nature. Read more...

 

April 13th, 2018

 

In the months before the second annual Missouri Linguistic Synod, my colleagues and I took advantage of several opportunities to share preliminary and organizational materials with each other. Our high capacity for the enjoyment of humor provided the name of this following small collection of those materials, which is a severe deformation of the title of Raymond Carver's 1981 meditation on reflection, as if you didn't already realize that immediately. Read more...

 

March 13th, 2018

more tomorrow

BY PREMEE MOHAMED

 

DAY 5

Anyway, it turns out trilobites aren’t very good eating even if you haven’t eaten in days. I had particularly high hopes for the fat, humped asaphids, thinking they would taste like shrimp, but everything I’ve caught so far is strictly armor and attitude, plus they bite. Discovered this morning that if you just hoik a trilobite in the fire and assume terminal temperature, it crawls out and shakes itself off like a little tank. Complete decapitation required. PAPER IDEA: Mechanisms of apparent trilobite invincibility. They're not strictly aquatic, either, they come right up on land and look at you while you're eating their friends. Jesus. Read more...

 

February 13th, 2018

SWARM OF PAN

BY CHRISTI NOGLE

 

The dreams begin approximately ten days before the start of a new semester. The teacher falls asleep watching late-night programs, wakes with the dream images, and curls away from her husband’s warm back to write.

Keep a dream journal, she tells students. Her classes focus on discreet academic tasks, but she says we have to grasp at what we can. She talks about her own modest actions toward making art and making the world a finer place. She hopes that the ones who seek permission to do the same will take that permission, and the others will think, at least, that they should pretend. Read more...

 

January 13th, 2018

WHY I WRITE

BY STEPHEN GRAHAM JONES

 

I write because I can’t draw. I write because I can’t cut to the basket slick enough to go pro. I write because I eat too many sixlets and drink too much tea and my fingers get all jittery, and I have to put them somewhere. I write because, for a few pages at a time, I can make the world make sense. Read more...