Picture by Brendan McCarthy I’m slapping band-aids on the cracks in the pavement,          and gluing my dead skin mask but the tremors alr...

I’ve never touched anything hard enough to leave a fingerprint,  my blood is too stale for DNA, and my seed is the rusted urine darkening th...

I guess I’m becoming familiar with Curtis M. Lawson’s exquisite work because I can trace the origins of this novella, Couch Surfing through ...

Christopher Zeischegg’s Creation: On Art and Unbecoming is a unique, experimental, transgressive book. Zeischegg uses a blend of fiction and...

The boys were sharing a tampon      as large as a crepe, one of them had found in the dilapidated washroom, earlier, when they still bothere...

Out of boredom, I trick my dog: I knock on the wood of my desk and pretend it came from the door. “Sic Rocky!” The dog jumps from the couc...

The winter holidays are here,  psychiatrists are booked solid.  My co-worker told me his radiation treatment went well but that his wife was...