Author: Heavy Feather

Two Stories from Gary Oldman Is a Building You Must Walk Through, a novel by Forrest Roth

The Signature of a Gentle Man As Sid Vicious You and I stare at the signature of the Gary Oldman your famous sister met in Los Angeles. That is: the handwriting your famous sister procured with or without the real Gary Oldman, which, at first, appears to be independent of an ordinary human hand—if there…
“Storage Failure,” a one-act play by Austin Bunn

YOUNG AUSTIN (seven), backlit, reads a book and crosses the stage to a chair. He is very much not looking where he is going. A silhouette, an outline, a memory. SOUND FX: a swarm of bees, slowly intensifying. AUSTIN (now), in aisle. He wants to tell you something. AUSTIN: That was me. In the backyard…
Four Poems by Rachel Ann Brickner

Harvest Frame Inside the picture I felt a little lovable like a little kid version of myself again—adored and adoring, doting and doted—and I thought how lovely it is to be a picture, to stand still amidst fixed elements—a flower just gone to seed, my lover’s hand forever in my grasp, the child growing inside…
“Deus Le Colt,” a poem by Nancy Hightower

After the lone wolf Judas has killed himself,believing he disrupted the status quo here’s how the script will play outhere’s how the words will leave your mouth: White men in the West: We need guns to hunt for foodWhite men in the East: We need guns to protect our familiesWomen and children trace the pattern…
Three Poems by Jill M. Talbot

They Put My Name in a Museum There are just as many in the “write what you know”and the “write what you don’t” camps, like protestorswho don’t realize their signs are the same, only indifferent languages: duck or rabbit. They put my name in a museum, and I was foolishenough to complain that they described…
“x is God,” a poem by Success Akpojotor

L = R L + x = R + xL – x = R – xL(x) = R(x), x not abhorrence L/x = R/x, x not loathing the equation is in turmoil tossed to the floor like a drunk, reeling to and fro. but the golden rule of equation commands: do unto the left side…
“slice,” a poem by Savannah Slone

Now is the time to grab your eggshell paint Pray that you won’t get it in your eyes when you stroke it across your face. Your face that has seen Your face that ought not be seen If it gets in your eyes, you might miss the removal of a hijab Two men kissing in shame White pointed hats…
Three Poems by Aeon Ginsberg

Tending the night of theelection I’m in a cavepouring potions no,I’m pouring Gin andTonics and instead ofdrinking I’m not evendrinking water and Ithink dehydration is aform of self-care in aweird fucked up waywhere I don’t knowhow to handle beingalive until I have toreset myself. drinkwater first and screamlater or scream first until the voice is…
Fiction: Andrew D. Hwang’s “Race to the Finish”

I should never have gotten stuck on the team with Jerry, Race, and Donnybrook. We didn’t know any of the same people, never saw eye to eye. Jerry was an oily creep. Race carried a photographer’s gray scale in his back pocket, pulled it out constantly to judge human worth. Donnybrook was expert at nothing…