Goodbye, John Not the Jesus to my child——you were the child, I the second coming——or first, or last, depending whether we countthe wife who resented your paintings,the mother who called you golden, or neither,since I alone stayed. No number of melted-downwedding bands could heal your cracks——you were, to hold another, too broken. But when you…

Bumper Sticker that Reads Keep Honking! I’m sitting in my car crying to the Cranberries' 1993 hit single “Linger” Good one, but for me it’s “Dreams”& I tried to tell my daughter “this is an all-time banger” though it came out like [high whine] because these days verbally admitting to liking anything makes me cry& it’s particularly bad with pop songs, which feels like a non-problem to bring to a therapist so I have not brought it to a therapist (or myself to a therapist) …

The blacksmith was called Black Johannes because of the dirt that seemed to have worked its way permanently into the creases of his cheeks. His eldest son was called Black Ardan, and he was expected to follow his father into the trade. But there was nothing Black Ardan loved more than to feel the springy heather underfoot. He wandered far, eating the oat-cakes and cheese he kept in his pockets.

Not much has been written in the comic press about El Chismoso Valiente, a self-published comic written and drawn by Ignacio "Nacho" Chazin in the early 90s. He eschewed the glossy full-sized comic book form for the 4.25" x 5.5" zine. Given his constant crossing the Mexicali border, this more properly could be noted as the size of Mexican comics such as…

we always showered at the beach. this was a power move, a way to be supple. my skin will never look that way again. I had been on my feet for hours when a man who looked exactly like a bald eagle carved a nest of ice in the midst of our infestation. I was restless. I said: you have the most unusually shaped penis I’ve ever seen!

The body’stally countsays elevenyears.Rememberbut shhhhh.Learn how tofight back,how to maintaina chokehold.We’re on offense,not defense,now.I count the dollarsI earnedwhen I learnedhow to comfortcrying menfor a living.“The revolution willnot be funded,” I whisper into thesavings box thatholds folded20’s.We love war…

after “The Fallen Angel” by Alexandre Cabanel What the average person doesn’t realize is how revenge works. It doesn’t come into being after the initial rage and disappointment and frustration cool. It’s not the logical mind rising from the gray ashes of emotion. Revenge is an emotion born at that first moment. Imagine Lucifer’s fall from the heavens. As he lands far below the docile and dovelike celestial beings a desire for revenge flames in his breast.

Welcome to Mommy’s El Camino. don’t mind if I do On Friday I ventured into my office cupboards where I recently relocated all my journals. There was a...

Warlocks and the black arts, hexes and pow-wows have been neglected by a race of modern rustics who, when their crops are bad or their pigs perish, appeal to the U.S. government. City people, who s…

Warlocks and the black arts, hexes and pow-wows have been neglected by a race of modern rustics who, when their crops are bad or their pigs perish, appeal to the U.S. government. City people, who supposed that the last U.S. beldame had long since ridden up the wind and that the rattle of wild laughter in the autumn air had never been heard since Salem, were surprised to learn of the York witches.

Patio It wasn’t summertill the cheese began to sweat. My kneesgrew ridged: the outlines of pleistocene lakes on a school map,in the wrong place. We lay in indoor sleeping bagsright on the lawn. Dew soaking through. Our bodies lumped like swallowed seeds in too——hot cloth. Just shapes of things. Once we sang folk songswith my uncle, rattling…

by jason b crawford Poetry   My manager speaks to me about manifestations, about how to make money grow from beneath the wilted fingers of dead men. She talks prayer and candles and bay leafs while I’...

Check out Yeet! - <b>Afrofuturist poetry that envisions Black people finding new worlds of freedom.</b> <p/> Following the traditions of Eve L. Ewing, Rio Cortez, and Douglas Kearney, jason b. crawfor...

Beard: A Memoir of a Marriage (William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2025) recounts how Kelly Foster Lundquist met Devin at church camp when she was nineteen in the late ’90s. Immediately inseparable, the two bonded over bootleg Tori Amos recordings and a sense of disconnection from the spiritual fervor of their fellow camp counselors. Devin was classically handsome and Kelly on the plain side of pretty, but they matched.

Prayer of Petition After Kate Patridge's "Petition for Reintroduction" I don’t want to get mail from the Jesus people anymore, but they have my address and miraculously spelledmy first name correctly. How did they find me? It’s been 22 years since I’ve dipped my hand into a holy water font, crossed myself, and sat in a pew. I know&hellip;

Crustacean Dilemma When we moved to FloridaI ate stone crab legs as if itwere o.k. I declared themdelicious one night to the server. “Yeah,” he said. “Noguilt either. They snap off the legs and toss the crabs back in the water, and miracle of miracles          the legs re-grow.” I remember my stomachrevolving. In the last twenty&hellip;

CW: CSA Father Richard, the Pithole’s “dial-a-deacon” for any weddings, christenings, baptisms, or other events that took place out of the grounds of an official church, was based in Pithole’s Oil County Courthouse. He’d shown his genitals to so many altar boys over the years that he was known throughout Pithole as Father Dick. The kids themselves all knew to give the big door to the right of the magistrate’s office——its brassy letters spelling out DEACON——a wide berth.