Tag Archive
Poetry as Past Time
As I write, the Red Sox are playing the Yankees, hoping to maybe get their second win of the season. It’s a beautiful day in April (minus the, um, maybe second win part) and I’m not playing. Not watching. Likely, I won’t know who won until much later tonight. If the Red Sox lose, I will surely have cursed them by writing this, for which I will feel eternally guilty. There, I’ve said it. (If this makes not an ounce of sense, stop reading. Go watch Fever Pitch. Do come back after. »
Ground Control to The Splinter Generation
by Scott Miller
Like the famed Mars rovers Spirit and Opportunity, this little project we call The Splinter Generation is rapidly approaching the fourthyear of its six-month projected lifetime. Once an experiment in literary community service, we have burgeoned into a full-scale journal.
Some people might be happy to sit back and admire the achievement, but. »
Heather Luby
Heather Luby grew up in the Ozarks and proudly considers herself a literary hillbilly. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Word Riot, Bartleby Snopes, Halfway Down the Stairs, The Citron Review, Travel by the Books, and Annotation Nation. She holds an MFA from Antioch University Los Angeles.. »
Features
Poems by Jake Sheff
Inner villanelle of a father-to-be without his Xanax
Father-to-be, you are not a villain.
Hell, black bile does not blackball from mating.
But you know, they’ll be your children. »
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. »