|
|
|
Read “Marriage: A Math Lesson Plan” by Caitlin M. Smith [PDF] About the author: Caitlin M. Smith is a twenty-six-year-old living in Boston with a degree in both math and creative writing. This story is her most successful attempt to merge the two fields, as well as her first published piece. Caitlin works in publishing where she is known for bringing in pies on March 14th. The Needle Vibrates The needle vibrates on some kind of spinning material. The air is cut by sound, shot through a tube, and tenderly transfixed to wax. The violence is minimal, or at least microscopic – a tiny needle gouges a revolving surface that has space for a certain amount of grooves. How was it so simple to record a sound? The machine simply captured what was already in the air. Vibrations. Yet we confuse like with like, vibrations with feelings, wax with plastic. A surface soft enough to be carved, allowing for a notch that holds the vibration in SWEET HAIRCUTS RULE I fixate on the small-perfect hairs aligned on your scalp and finger bang myself to sleep. In my head I haze you as part of your initiation to be in my body. There’s a puddle of ceiling that seeps through a mattress & leaks into a possibility & thank God we’re still young. My hands arch intensely to a composition of my functioning body and an ex’s mixed cd. WE WOKE UP LEAN I smoke gently on your chest. We were careful not to wake the kids & goodbye with a handshake & my skeleton is trapped I Lie In A Way That Knows Me The first sentence is a labyrinth. What’s here—or was—is a kitchen sex mirror, knifed breathing. She’s reading a train on time; reading a time on a train. There are eyebrows in quotations regarding the softest instances of your mouth. Before Minutes I ask for an ask. The second sentence begets. This is wandering & we’ll pre-order fuck you. Flashes swim as they may. We See Films This sentence is a state on the rise. Six minutes before eleven begins We’re ones in slept math. I begin, you rise. Vegetables are less fucked » Continue reading I Lie In A Way That Knows Me by Parker Tettleton… She was a newborn sky; cloudless and starless. Not even a sun—just the faint outline of a moon too shy to sing. She apologized for everything and laughed at nothing. There were days she would stitch and unstitch her lips, the dancing needle and thread like dandelion dust in the wind. Her smile, though the sides would anchor, was a tidal wave. I loved to drown. She explained how when beaches catch fire, the sand turns to glass and we can see hell burning below. “I have the blisters to prove it.” I asked if that was why she stared Read “Public Toilet Safety for Women” by Nina Pratt [PDF] 
good god don’t put roses in a poem no lily daisy orchid bobble fist grotesque on barbed wire berated battleaxe of mall shop gas factory, you want beauty in a poem drop a Tesla coil a sprained wrist scraped page underpass tropospheric caper apron pocket uranium seed it with peanut butter, like a smooth miracle in its brown picnic thickness in its satin swim of oil in its ordinary plastic jar like any volt, held in the dim of an unsuspecting life or shelf waiting to do it About the author: Shawnacy Kiker is a full-fledged, if slightly reluctant, member Listen to a reading of “Mannequin Garden” by Rachel Springer. The piece is read by Donald Dunbar. When Man first arrives at the garden, it is empty. The garden encourages Man to paint on it. Overwhelmed, he throws up. Plants rain down, slowly at first… then, faster than Man can count, nameless, but labeled by country of origin, historical empire, religion. Some arrangements are informal, while others work within traditional gender roles. Plots, sparse or dense, have a mixture of ornamentals and edibles. One is a tub containing water and a plant. One is a friendship ring made out of …a smooth, round word, with a very private meaning Oslo’s wharves are heaped with dying fish. Oslo has thousands of nude statues, baring their concrete skin year-round in public parks. Oslo freezes but does not lose its roundness, dripping red paint drops. Oslo’s interiors are wide and warm, like a whale’s. Oslo is white with an orange sun sliding around her navel. Oslo moves slowly. Oslo feeds you a watery, incongruous summer, and then buries your fat, formless body deep in the winter’s dark. (You check your inbox. No love letters. No 
The strings to heaven were severed with scissors of water. All fell down. We went shopping and bought. Nicolas Joseph Cugnot invented a steam powered automobile in 1769 leading to bank robbery getaways, the delivery of milk bottles, and steaming hours stuck on stagnant highways—sometimes to the beach and waves. Men and women stopped wearing head coverings as prescribed in Corinthians and the wavy look became fashionable. Louis-Victor de Broglie claimed that all matter, not just light, had a wave-like nature. Some people cared; most did not give a fuck. We sat on the knoll by the lake and watched |
|
|
Copyright © 2013 Word Riot - All Rights Reserved |
|
