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Published writers will tell you that the most important thing you can do as a beginning writer is to know your markets! So this month, we'll talk about two of the markets open to you and your riveting but as yet unpublished prose -- Fling Magazine and Clubhouse…
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I got to Victoria station at quarter to eleven on a Friday with nothing but a small leather bag and the vague idea of getting out of London.
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This mother, she buys a one way ticket
whenever she visits her three daughters
who have wandered far from the eyes of
her pearlescent knitting needles and tutti-frutti yarns.
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I dreamt, said the Donkey, of an apricot. An apricot the size of a heart. …
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Study decay, says the Queen of the Underground.
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It’s nice, but, it’s weird not being in love, or maybe in love, sometimes in love.
(Or, not in love. Frankly, we might be not in love.)
Or, both of us might be. Or, only one of us might be.
(Good lord, I hope it’s never me.)
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0 is beautiful0 invented by Indians1 you can almost trust2 is poor3 the figure of human nature4 the face of all paradox5 is a handsome man6 a repetitive voice7 is a temptress9 an ugly and noisy digitSo too is 8100 is rich1000 the symbol of strength1 million resembles a…
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Our world is a prism floating through its own rainbow smeared shadows in a desperate attempt to get caught. Our lives are in the carpets, the planks, the winds. Whatever has heard us, has not believed in us enough to rescue us from our own …
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forced to submit/
to reasonableness//
and universal healthcare.
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The Phoenix Asks the Turtle-Dove if He Can Get a Drop of Water: After Shakespeare — In the style of Ted Hughes Let the bugling bird come up that burst a big loud lay, On the solitary tree of old Arabia (sound its thunder!):…
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...the loving and very painful hurt of our daily sustenance
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Whenever I get the urge to write a poem I try to talk myself out of it.
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They first hook you in with how cute they are. And they are cute, do not get me wrong. I'm not, nor have I ever been, fundamentally against babies—until now. As the first reviewer of this oh-so-wonderful app, my intention is not to…
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I am human, I am no piece of meat.I am (womb)an.I stand on my own two feet.I move my own arms and legs.I do not scramble eggsnor do I wait for the telephone to ringfrom possibly potential datesdesperate for my affections,none of them remotely worthy.Independent am I. …
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It's become sort of a habit now when Elsie's husband is away on business two or three times a month that we take the afternoon off and drive nine miles across the river to Marginalia, Arkansas and the Moonglow Motel with its red, neon vacancy sign and although to some, two…
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One night he woke up with Underdog laying next to him, breathing softly. He marveled at how fiction could make reality so much better.
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Hey, how are you? she squeaked.
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[This story definitely WON'T be appearing in this month's "Alfred Hitchock's Mystery Magazine"!]
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Popping in to buy a tire gauge.
Stumbling, drunk, on your way to buy cigarettes with two cops coming in behind you.
You hold the door.
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Gamo knows the Master doesn't make idle requests and orders the secret issue of weapons to the student priests, who now stand gathered at Kang's back. Swords, spears and shields are quietly handled and hidden from the Mantidean's view. Dr. Kang continues
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My first girlfriend had blue Christmas lights strung on trees in front of her stone house. My family had all gone to bed. When midnight came, it was snowing.
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Poor, pocked Ceres- dwarf planet/
trapped among mere asteroids-
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From room to room, neither closet nor drawer contained any remnant of pleasant memory.
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There were security guards running all over the place. Campus police cars, with lights flashing, at various locations in the distance. Sora gripped her books tight as they saw their dormitory building ahead.
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That is a six-word story. Notice that the meaning does not change with the word count. Syllabic count: pentameter (ten). Keep these commas.
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I clearly see the squirrels of
negativity all around me,
ladies & gentlemen.
I sensed they were there
filling in the blank spaces
as I read down the page,
prior to arriving at
the meaning of everything.
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I Am My VoiceRegimes may throb and dreams may smoke but my sisters' thoughts they'll not revoke. Through rock that quivers, through concrete stream, our reds and yellows, they'll dazzle and teem. My womanliness need not be feminine not that the feminine…
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Excelsior: A Poem in Nine Parts Preface: Musings on a Lighthouse by an Eastern Isle (Suggested by a painting by Mario Larrinaga) It is bright tonight; this plain, displaced from place In Time's broad flight, yields…
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