Author: Alfonso Colasuonno

Hands, by Adrian Neibauer

I look for chores to busy my hands, inherited from Marie, my German grandmother. She barely sat down for 76 years. She would clean and cook and wash and cut the grass. Except when Frida would come over. Two German sisters: sitting over coffee, chatting in German, smiling at their grandchildren as I meandered in […]

Witch trials

Moonlight, by J. Newell

May 1, 1632 I undid the tie on my bonnet, skipping through yellow reeds long enough to tickle my chin. There was a cool breeze in the air, promises of fall, that lifted tresses of my brown, waved hair. My mother had never let me cut it, so it fell near to my waist. The […]

A poem by J.J. Campbell called Heavy Breathing

Heavy Breathing, by J.J. Campbell

the phone rang just as i started to masturbate this afternoon the guy trying to get me to switch my long distance didn’t appreciate all the heavy breathing i didn’t exactly care for his high pitch southern drawl either

Paul Beckman's Short Fiction House Beautiful

House Beautiful, by Paul Beckman

Herbert sat in his chair, a large mahogany overstuffed leather with matching ottoman, and Sheila sat in hers, a spindle backed rocker with thin pillow pads tied to the seat and chair back. The powder blue pads were interchangeable and washable and had tiny white butterflies as their only design. The cloth strips that tied […]

Trash, by Kelly Grieve

He’s loving and he cares So much. How does he care One second like that and then Snap he’s out He’s created a love inside Himself that I have no part of I’m a teddy bear, soulless and Crammed full of fluff Snoring away at my shoulder My meaning diminishes Second by Second You were […]

The Upsell Artist, By Frank Mundo

I read somewhere once that, on average, a man thinks about sex every seven seconds. That means, in the sixty seconds it took me to pay her, I thought about it at least eight times. Once was the white blob of mayonnaise on her green polo shirt, just beneath her name tag. Another was the […]

Hall of Reptiles, By Fred D. White

Chester raked a pocket comb through his son’s hair near the entrance to the Hall of Reptiles. “Your mop never stays in place, just like the rest of you, Murph.” He tilted the boy’s head with both hands to inspect the combing. “I suppose that hee-haw step-daddy of yours don’t teach you much about appearance.” […]

Glaciers, By Cassandra Cervi

(an experimental poem: drawn from Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse-5, and Hemingway’s Hills Like White Elephants) All this happened, more or less. The Lord rained brimstone and fire upon Sodom and Gomorrah. Only stones remained. Like the moon. The line of hills, they were white in the sun. Like white elephants. The country was brown and dry […]

Shaming Shoes, By Mike Fiorito

When Gina LoRusso convinced me that we could win the King of Queens Dance contest, I pretended to give a shit about dancing so I could get into her pants. For as long as I could remember, my sisters had tortured me with disco songs like “Come to Me” and “Love to Love You Baby.” […]

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