Tag Archive
Two Street, January First
poetry by Paul Siegell
football buffs / in Philadelphia’s aviaries vault the beer-can
casualties / of another round of fumbled punt returns.
parking authority tyrants / toy with every block possible
along Philadelphia’s / deliriousness of cobblestone.
such miserable hospital cafeteria coffee in Philadelphia’s. »
NO MORE UGLY SURPRISES™
Fiction by Xenia Schiller
No More Ugly Surprises™ asks the tough questions that other matchmakers never even consider. At No More Ugly Surprises™, we pride ourselves on being the only dating service in the world that provides full disclosure to our clients.. »
Cormorant Complicate
Poetry by Talia Reed
at 5:30 in the afternoon she fumbled out of the dark bedroom,
into a kitchen.
an example of highly unusual fauna.
she googled the word. »
The Music Of Psychology And The Schizophrenic
Fiction by Shome Dasgupta
Did you know? Did you know that he and he took out my spinal chord and used it as a piano-. »
Features
Call for Interviews: DO Talk to Strangers
The Splinter Generation is now accepting submissions of interviews with people you wouldn’t ever talk to. Find someone you wouldn’t ordinarily meet, or someone you disagree with on almost everything and have dinner, or a drink, or an email exchange. Record it, transcribe it, edit it down, and send it in.
Why? Remember when you were. »
Poems by Lauren Schmidt
Her Name is Sarah
When Randy drifted in for dinner with her baby
tangled in the rosary scars of her arms,
pressed against the dust of her breast,
everyone wanted to see. They softened
their eyes, their smiles, the way people do
when they look on a baby sleeping,
a baby who has not cried in two days,
a baby whose eyes ooze. »
Megan Hildebrandt Talks Art, Humor, and Cancer at 25
Being diagnosed with cancer and experiencing chemotherapy at age 25 dramatically changed the priorities and course of my work. Prior to this illness, I made narrative-based images about local history and my neighbors. Now, the stories in the work have emerged directly from my own body and memory, and the history is my own. »