Category: Prose
-
Walter Benjamin’s Flight through the Pyrenees Up to the Bluffs of Pure Language
In a drawer at the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris, Klee’s angel holds his clustered smile in place. His eyes slide sideways, though there’s nothing to see in the dark.
-
93 Nola
The curtain is thin in New Orleans. The beyond closer, the dead nearer. You hear it in the wailing music, you see it in the grey mists off the river, you feel it in cold air radiating off sunbaked bricks.
-
Purgatory
A haunted Keno screen still flashes inside the bar. Some allege that the landlord’s wife goes in there to play and drink wine, as was her habit when the bar was open.
-
The Girls Shop at Hot Topic
Flash Fiction by Frederica Morgan Davis
-
Nights
Flash Fiction by David Ricchiute
-
Sydney
Thirty minutes after takeoff, I realized the old man sitting next to me had died. We hit some turbulence, and his hand fell from the armrest onto my right leg. I waited, expecting the old man to pick his arm back up, but his eyes remained closed, his head stayed cocked back, and the backside…