Tag Archive
Broken men were her specialty
Poetry by Janette Kim Larson
oblique sermon in the strip mall
man dressed up as pizza
arms restrained beneath
soft
beige
polyester
such lust. »
passively, with known intent
Poetry by Nikia Chaney
lie to him, listen
to the hummingbirds, lay
in bed a bit longer, laugh
and pretend to hate the smell
of heat and give over the thought
of this call. »
Every Night is a Night of Bombs Somewhere
Most dances are cries. Try to pin them in place.
Look away from ash—a boy and a girl
loving that boy: screams and statues
flash-frozen against a night sky bleached. »
reasons not to swim at night
Poetry by Giuseppe Infante
in a cardboard box near the beach’s massive stones rests empty bottles of sugar cane soda or 30 cents for the weekly bottle collector with filth ridden dingy fingernails. ruined vacation in malibu. »
Dear OKCupid,
I am married to a man,
and while I am looking more
for a girl to kiss than
“just friends”,
I would appreciate it
if you found a way
to discourage
old Oklahoman dudes
from masturbating
to fantasies
of me traveling
to fuck them
like their wives won’t.
-poetry by Katie Moore. »
Not Your Mama’s “I Think We Should See Other People”
So what exactly is the difference between polyamory and non-exclusive dating, if none of the people involved are. »
An Interview with Steve Almond About Technology, Loneliness and the Splinter Generation
The main thing I see in the writing is this strain of what I call “hysterical lyricism.” Certain younger writers are just so saturated by visual media. »
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. »