The author of The Pulse Between Dimensions in the Desert, Rios de la Luz is a writer that does not rest easily within the literary boundaries of form, genre, and content. Her storytelling is always heartbreaking, always artful, and always politicized. Here she speaks about Bizarro writing, the idea of home, and WOC as social... Continue Reading →

Santa Muerte’s Lover He told me not to fall in love with him; he belonged to someone else. “You don’t understand,” he said. “I’m a heroin addict. It takes over me. My body doesn’t even become my own any more. You don’t even drink!” “I drank enough last spring to get in trouble in my... Continue Reading →

  Because neither subtlety nor obfuscation is the province of the protest poem & if I have to "cheat" with a long title-cum-foreword just to render this (figurative) call to arms call for a non-violent uprising LOUD & CLEAR because we're all FUCKED!!!, I would. Karlo Sevilla lives in Quezon City, Philippines and his poems... Continue Reading →

Chihuateteo Rip or Drum  or Buzzing in My Ears   The skin of my lower stomach is a drying little round drum, tightening and tightening. I finger the deep, red symbols indented by the seams of my jeans before slipping on the papery, blue clinic dress that won’t rise even when I spin and spin.... Continue Reading →

  Elegy on Unlicensed Nuclear Accelerator for J. Park The old ambulance-slash-hearse winds its way through these Southern Californian streets. The west coast Ghostbusters franchisee driving as I check the Tobin’s Spirit Guide with your diary to see what type of specter you would be. Bifurcated, where would the ethereal half go?   Your physical... Continue Reading →

  Newly released from Floricanto Press, Patrick Fontes’ novel, Maria’s Purgatorio, is a book of terse prose with cold and hot shots of the visceral and misfit characters that dazzle and disturb, in places both brutal and provocative. It lays bare another California, a world with a profane kind of sunshine and sidewalks seeped with... Continue Reading →

 25 minutes into an action flick  “To die like flies is not how the flies will put it.”   William Gass, Middle C Aroma of pumpkin-harvest potpourri reminds me of the time I tried to explain what happened and then halted. Since the explanation was rated R. The pumpkin-harvest burns the den whenever we visit. There... Continue Reading →

 The Things I've Never Tasted When the guy I've been fucking For two months tells me he’s never Tasted a fig, my thought falls off The cliff of my tongue And it takes me a minute I ask him if he’s never even had A fig fucking newton, and he says no He hasn’t Naked... Continue Reading →

Leak We’ve been in this house for ten years. My asthma comes from a mixture of mold and ancient dust that was here before we moved in, before I was born, before this house was constructed. Inhale. Exhale. The spores sit heavy in the tender wings that bring the breath of life. Here, the mold... Continue Reading →

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