One St. Patrick’s Day when my brother and I were in junior high, my brother’s teacher singled out a boy who had broken code by not wearing a green article of clothing. She asked him where his “green” was. The boy got out of his chair as if to get a good head start on his walk to the principal’s office and said, “I got a green dick.” Continue Reading
I’m in a windowless room with a woman
who lies about her age. They told me
to do it, she coos. She starts dancing
as if there is music playing like some Continue Reading
He came in through the window like he always did. He’d texted me a few hours earlier with his usual message—up for the good stuff? Other boys were more crass when they texted girls about sex. Plowing. Hitting it. They were angry, violent, sometimes humiliating. My friends had sex with them anyway. I was glad that Nikki was nicer. Continue Reading
I walked into his office and closed the door. There were piles of papers everywhere and a deer head hanging on the wall.
What can I do for you? he asked.
Well, I just don’t know what I’m doing half the time anymore Continue Reading
Wine for a Shotgun
Marty McConnell
EM Press, 2012
$15.00, 70pp.
Reviewed by Kelly Davio
Wine for a Shotgun and the Poetics of Raucous Restraint
“Each time we run away from ourselves we are driven home again with greater force. Every effort to break out only pushes us further back into ourselves.” – Henry Miller, Stand Still Like the Hummingbird
MADISON, NJ — When we moved into our new place, I decided the bird feeders had to go. It’s not that I mind birds. I mostly enjoy them, their colorful chirping. Continue Reading
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