Tag Archives: Fiction

i am dislocation incarnate

The Crabwise Couscous Crumbcake Mary Arroyo wrote in her journal: 07/15/2021 Numen: a spiritual force or influence often identified with a natural object, phenomenon, or place The older I grow the less life makes sense to me. Every directive, every … Continue reading

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a totalitarian turd

More praise for the thee istsfor manity reader: “Please, make it stop!”— Lit Blub magazine “I suffered from a severe case of leopard spotting, it led to a loss of jobs, family, and friends. Reading the thee istsfor manity reader … Continue reading

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their wingless diaspora (redux)

You Can’t Fool the Fleas of the Revolution by Dr. Clodomira Garcia-Borges Cienfuegos, PhD “The absentminded conservator left the bestiary door open on his desk … the cavorting beasties escape one by one.” – J. Ignatius, “The Revolt of the … Continue reading

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rag and bone

The Tug of Ghosts It seemed to her she was always leaving, or someone was leaving her. Her father disappeared one day when she was ten. Her mother disappeared into a fog of alcohol and mental illness the next year—and … Continue reading

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ignition doesn’t catch

A Muzz of Voices (Sorta’ Redux SoFla Version) She understands nothing. She tries, squint-eyed, to turn her brain over. Without spark, the ignition doesn’t catch. She sees herself, monochromatic, on the screen of her childhood 1974 Panasonic TV. Her father … Continue reading

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the world ascended

The Maw She spotted him kicking the St. Jude statue installed outside the Melkite Church on the corner. It was the same dirty and desultory man who approached her the day before. The sky was a swirl of hazy cross-oceanic … Continue reading

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felt unalterably stupid

Life After She woke up dumber in the new southern town than she had been in her northern home the last time she fell asleep. The intellectual disparity over those few sleepless days was astounding, many folks would later say: … Continue reading

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a fanged sky

Wait. Weight. The southern city was full of all manner of curvilinear impediments and drop-offs. It led to a vertiginous sensation she abhorred—it seemed as if the angry sky and sea wished to become one turbid space. She saw cloud … Continue reading

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passion for rotters

She Meets Pepi Poppers There’s something of the sybarite about her. She plays the lute too loud and with reckless abandon — popping strings here and there and singing haltingly about fucking. About what? Yeah, and she eats too many … Continue reading

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the pleasing dread

she was cut down by the heedless sun squamata lovers blister in the sun enervated by the humidity she sensed the pleasing dread of petrichor “If the world is torn to pieces, I want to see what story I can … Continue reading

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