sharp lady heels sinking into the future // drawn fatefully in my tat of moth lace
(poetry)
Author: Another Chicago Magazine
I can finally legitimately stroll into a Victoria’s Secret looking for a bra-and-panty set for myself and not pretend to be doing Christmas or birthday shopping for my wife.
(fiction)
This is the first piece in our new DEBUT section, which showcases the first literary work published by a writer, beyond a campus-only magazine.
“There were no pens allowed at Carrollton Springs because of the possibility of someone hurting themselves with one”
(nonfiction)
Everything / about bleeding and nothing about how to get this stain out.
(poetry)
The latest in our FORTHCOMING series of excerpts from new books
“I am doing well, but soon I feel / the rolling thunder of an evil rudo / with a toxic fanbase”
(poetry)
AGAINST THE WRITTEN WORD takes heaping helpings of alienation and disillusionment and shoves the mixture through a grinder of sarcasm and satire.
(reviews)
The shadows of the bamboo leaves shivered across Cassandra’s face. Even in the moonlight, she looked like she was planning something.
(fiction)
I began my story. I told him I was born in Italy and moved to Venezuela when I was eight years old.
(nonfiction)
With every photo either zoomed in or close-up, I tend to forget how small they are. Nudibranchs range from four millimeters up to 520 millimeters.
(nonfiction)
Beer’s truth is her joyfully cynical perspective on the world as it unfolds before her.
(review)
Burden intentionally did not tell the staff of the museum so that a tension would be created between his artistic intent and the museum’s staff concern for his health and safety.
(audiovisual)
Too big, too small, just right? Pillows for lovers. Erogenous zones. Never used for feeding babies. Strap them down when they get in the way. Pinup worthy, so I once was told. Now they’ll be diminished, I’m leaving a part of me in the past.
(nonfiction)
Adler, in full command of her signature style, presents herself a new challenge, to retrofit her revolution with a few choice accoutrements of tradition.
(reviews)
When the train lurches, I move like the world’s clumsiest pole dancer. Are third-trimester pole dancers a thing? No doubt someone’s into that.
(fiction)
Often, South Flight will offer a line or an entire poem all but exploding with agony and suffering.
(reviews)
He knew the affair he was having with the composer, that it should have been me.
(nonfiction)
I don’t know what he expected to see. My disfigurement is not external
(fiction)
the latest in our FORTHCOMING series of excerpts from new books
“Don’t Forget To Be Awesome. Okay. Working on it…”
(poetry)
For a few years we took turns breaking each other’s hearts, casting each other away, reeling each other back in.
(nonfiction)
The first in our FORTHCOMING series of excerpts from new books
“There isn’t any us, baby.”
(fiction)
Beneath the tree, grasses of pale yellow and green commingle to create a neon shade reminiscent of Mello Yello, a soda from my childhood….
(nonfiction)
I was in Colorado because seventy-plus hour workweeks punctuated by martinis had swallowed me whole.
(nonfiction)
“Nature is healing,” says a small tin sign in front of a dried up cornfield.
(nonfiction)
“Why don’t we come to an agreement then? I’ll buy the alcohol if you finally stop working.” Hassan said as he sipped his Scotch and watched her with his psychologist’s stare. She had the uneasy feeling she was a frog in his pot, and he was slowly turning up the heat.
(fiction)
“Lehman has claimed a kinship with poets of the past that exists outside time,” writes reviewer Suzanne Lummis.
(poetry reviews)
Another Chicago Magazine 