By Anders Carlson-Wee
No car to drive to the dump and too embarrassed to borrow one, you scrape the black mold off the underside as best you can, muscle it onto your shoulder. Spores multiplied to the size
By Carl Phillips
More dark than gray, but not yet quite darkentirely, the stories keep ending as if there werea limit to what any story could hold onto, and thisthe limit, the latest version of it, looking a lot like the seameeting shore.
By Iliana Rocha
At the spot where the girl lay, I see the refineries. Their stencils are blurred on the horizon, making their machinery less intricate, & therefore, holy.
By Leila Chatti
He says he’s never really stoppedspeaking to God. Says it’s in his DNA, askingfor things.