I can’t believe I thought you were cute telling me you stuttered. We’d been going out for a month. You acted like you were letting me in on a secret. You acted like you were letting me in on a secret. You must have forgotten trying to say your name to my Uncle Jack. He gave me grief about it for weeks, how you looked at the ceiling and bit your lip. x
Nonfiction by Timothy L. Marsh
The children surge from the bus, all squeals and skips in their wonderful youth. They strike the ground and stun the air, flow up and over the parking lot, plunge into Cabot Tower—thirty sets of fuel-injected legs firing on all summer cylinders.
with Khadijah Queen
Inspired by the principles of the traditional Japanese tea ceremony, MKMT is a direct response to Pop art and its aftershocks, in that the separation between the art work and the viewer, is non-existent. People become the art that they are witnessing. Dividing lines disappear. The viewer is an essential component, rather than a passive consumer of the work.
The Splinter Generation is dedicated to providing a venue for aspiring and established artists. We accept contributions of work in any fine art medium including painting, drawing, performance art, video, printmaking, photography, textiles and sculpture. Literary comics also welcome. We have no prescribed style and will consider both representational and abstract work. However, the work should speak to the overall generational theme of the journal, whether directly or indirectly. x
Poetry by Kristine Ong Muslim
This cold has taught me
about the nature of souls.
Although I have known
a long time ago that the body
is meant to be a sieve for
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 kerosene…