Robert Vaughan

Conversation with Francine Witte

by Swetha Amit SW: RADIO WATER is a beautiful collection of flash stories dealing with poignant themes. What inspired this selection, and how did you put it all together? FW: I published a book last year, Just Outside the Tunnel of Love, and found that there were...

It’s God’s Fog Up Top: A Review of Benjamin Niespodziany’s Cardboard Clouds by Jonathan Cardew Who Quotes Various Lines from the Work Instead of a Traditional Review (Plus a Few Pics) Partly Because He is Lazy and Partly Because He Doesn’t Want to Debase This Extraordinary Hybrid Collection of One-act Plays and Prose Poem Oddities with the Mundanity of Review Language Hence This Recycled Homage to Language Play Itself (and a Few Pics)

Language! “The symphony in the pit consists of rhythmic minimalists.” “Lips like witch” “The sky is a sweltering velvet, held together by loose nails.” “Low. But also loud. Like a herd of cattle. Like dark, dark dust. Dense. Shut up.” “She sews a wisdom tooth into her...

My Fave Five- May 2021

May 2021 Series Curator: Jonathan Cardew May Selector: Andrew Bertaina What’s rare, what’s bright, what’s new? This is what we ask a new writer every month in search of the best hybrid, poetry, and flash writing from the previous month. In this edition, we catch up...

MY FAVE FIVE- APRIL 2021

April 2021 Series Curator: Jonathan Cardew April Selector: Minyoung Lee What’s rare, what’s bright, what’s new? This is what we ask a new writer every month in search of the best hybrid, poetry, and flash writing from the previous month. In this edition, we catch up...

My Fave Five- March 2021

March 2021 Series Curator: Jonathan Cardew March Selector: Hannah Grieco What’s rare, what’s bright, what’s new? This is what we ask a new writer every month in search of the best hybrid, poetry, and flash writing from the previous month. In this edition, we catch up...

The Plumber’s Lament

Dear Lord of Digestion, how do humans eat so much light and shit so much darkness? Like the exotic beetle that scribes its life in excretions of ink, they write their lives in bile, bacterial biomasses, nitrogenous matter. I feel sorry for them, every day hanging...

Cuckoo Flower

I knew a woman who said she couldn’t recognize faces. She had a neurological thing with a Latin name. She was a writer, and we were booked at the same reading, and she gave me a head’s up about her inability to recognize faces, and I wondered how this would apply to a...

Three

Three My girl Is vanilla bean, Lies on the floor like a scraggled mop. One day she makes me breakfast. More than a dozen eggs or so. It is all bubble and scramble, And I would tell her everything if I thought she could take it but she can’t, she would curl up like...

Breaking Bread; Repair Girl

Two pieces -- the first with words created from the word generator (smart and end m and start with b, end with d ... with some author flexibility. The second features someone with an odd profession, with a voice different from my usual. Breaking Bread The fungus...

Conjoined

Conjoined I stare back at the people staring at me, as if we’re all lost, befuddled and peculiar. I have two heads to do the staring, two sets of eyes and one body that takes me through crowds, Macy’s and holidays. though it sometimes goes flat when one set of my eyes...

The Adjustment

We don’t greet when I enter the room. He is still fit for a man his age. His strong back to me hovered over a desk, he keeps turning papers in the dark trying to reflect the fading natural light that comes through the sub-basement style window. Like the disinterested...

Red Light

Our eyes meet while caught in a snarl of rush hour traffic, waiting for the light to change. We don’t recognize each other at first. Then we do. Memory flares like a struck match, and suddenly, I’m reliving that awful summer after my divorce and the way you looked...

Stuck, Hung-Up or Stiff?

Sydney Ashley was always getting stuck. Not on thoughts in his mind, but on things. His rubber galoshes would stick like caterpillars mating, even on linoleum floors. Sydney Ashley was always getting hung-up. Not on thoughts in his mind, but on door tops when he...

Little Lord Fauntleroy

His white boots feel daunting- matching the quadratic graphics of his cropped tee. Look at the buffed and polished nails. See how he turns the wigginess of his tanned face? Who does this to themselves? Lacquered couch and armed slouch. Bulletproof patch quilt vest...

a couple of pieces

Barley and Hops Maybe we should have sex tonight or fake it with fries Cab Franc and a clown balloon on hand just so I can feel something anything because this axis isn’t budging and every wasp has stung my ear twice or thrice already as if I’m a glum LA actor with a...

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