Tag: HFR Archives

Melissa McDaniel Illustrated Fiction: “Horse Girls”

*Ed.’s Note: click image to view larger size. Melissa McDaniel writes and lives in Brooklyn, New York. She is an editor for tNY Press, and her work has been published in Necessary Fiction, Psychopomp Magazine, Luna Station Quarterly, witch craft mag, Be About It Press, and elsewhere. Image: thefarrierguide.com
“CisWorld,” a speculative essay by Torrey Peters

If there were only trans people in the world, would the monsters in horror movies be cisgender people? The way that cis people have their monsters and villains in transgender characters like Buffalo Bill, or Michael Caine’s character in Dressed to Kill, or Angela in Sleepaway Camp, or Brother Martin in the X-Files episode “Gender…
Three Poems by David Wojciechowski

[In this dream I’m running a dream farm] In this dream I’m running a dream farm and glue factory. Dreams run everywhere. Even into the glue factory. One dream is on fire. This dream burns down the farm, the factory. The whole site is smoldering. People smell it from miles away. They wander wafting air.…
Sara Adams: Three Erasures

*Ed.’s Note: click images to view larger sizes. Head Librarian Erasure from Stephen King’s It Love Poem Erasure from Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea His Heart Was Shit Erasure from Stephen King’s It Sara Adams is the author of three chapbooks: Think Like a B (SOd Press), Poems for Ivan (Porkbelly Press)…
“Principia // Love Song for Faye Valentine,” a poem by T.A. Noonan

She is Reagan, Jillian, Cream Dream—the starlet has changed her name again. Freckles silhouetted against the same American bodysuits & foolish heels. Her breasts are perfect models of Newton’s universal gravitation that the vulgar conceive. Over a hundred pornos in her alias, & we are to admit no more causes of natural things. Or she…
Jacqueline Boucher Poetry: “Radioactive”

In the aftermath, the first things to grow are the horns. We fleshy ibex in threadbare sweaters clash in subcutaneous bump and grind, in hemorrhage & broken bone. I leave one eye at the foot of a gutted soda fountain, tin of ravioli clutched in my fist like pennies. Before: we got gas there, swapped…
Five Antarctica Poems by Dennis James Sweeney

70°5’S 65°40′E In the Antarctic Circle, our main concern is self-husbandry. Cutting dark chops from the dark sky. Identifying lifelong manacles. Feeling for the key. Suspending paper katydids from the ceiling at just the right angle: the difference between Hank’s breath and the hot, light breeze of the radiator. They trigger different flights. At times…
Kami Westhoff Fiction: “Until We Surface”

The quease in our bellies rises and recedes with the water’s insistent motion. We close our eyes, beat back the bile with an onslaught of swallow. For Andrew it’s worse, of course. He opens the kitchen window and vomits. His mother is a pinprick for now, but her motion snags the sky, tears it into…
Two Poems by C.M. Keehl

an act of desperation we have all done this kind of thing so I’ll send a postcard because light is tricky only being measured in meeting of crests I was here oncewhere the moon crests the pines to light a pool I sat in summer heat if you play your cards right I’ll give you…