Tag: HFR Vacancies

Short Fiction: “To Have Done with the Division of Moving Bodies” by John Madera

To Have Done with the Division of Moving Bodies The day the killer killed the bitch, the town-they-called-a-city’s grayscale sky went cartoon blue. White sun crashing through, it made the spring that felt like fall feel like spring again, if only before it felt like fall again. A fall, though, where an American Robin’s breast…
Fiction: “A Crushing Beauty” by Kelly Lynn Thomas

A Crushing Beauty Mia has been dead for weeks, but she can’t bring herself to leave Nowhere, Pennsylvania. When it had become clear that the chemicals she’d poisoned herself with had only worked on her body, she’d planned to make for Los Angeles like she and her best friend had always dreamed. She makes it…
Brad Rose: Two Poems

In Media Res Everything on this planet fails fails in the middle even death your life is death’s failure but it’s not too late you can rescue death you can go to death’s school, learn death’s lessons don’t worry study look, already you are between floors, a mezzanine you’re almost nothing inside you, there is…
Three Micro-Poems by David Tomaloff

In Defense of Clouds the absence of caterpillar time— / weighted under a weightless sky, / the ibis eyeing a sore spot / where the rain stops & the crunch leaks in In Synonymous touch an ear to the scarab— / how the sense to wonder is a why // how the sense to count…
“Field Journal,” a poem-hybrid by Phil Spotswood

Field Journal the last scientist does not know where the others have gone. he searches the corners of the stone hearth for bacteria—to prove that there were breathers, once—that oxygen roiled. he rolls out dough to watch the yeast rise, for movement outside of himself. he breaks bread with his own two hands and says…
Fiction by Marcus Pactor: “Cake”

Cake —after Blake Butler The cake reminded me of the twins’ wet sludge food. I could never shovel it well enough for them. My wife often replaced me halfway through their meals, as a mercy. I did not slice, then, so much as scoop dessert into a bowl. It tasted of egg and hair. That…
Two Surreal Fictions by Michael Trocchia

The Uninvited It was the scene outside that would be of great consequence, yet they crowded around the uninvited guest, who in the larger picture had little to do with much of anything. The larger picture, in fact, was more than a frame of reference, for it was, of course, larger than that, despite the…
Three Prose Poems by Grant Kittrell

There’s a Man with a Hemingway Inside His chair is shrinking beneath him on the coffee shop patio. I should grow a mustache, a full-blown beard. This brisk November means nothing and everything to his smoky sail of hair. He runs his fingers through it like a god. His wife hasn’t said a word since…
Fiction: “Help Find Frankie Doolan” by Jack Kaulfus

Help Find Frankie Doolan 1. Frankie switched her phone to silent and threw it on top of the travel duffel her father had given her for graduation five years ago. While she zipped her coat, she paused for a quick look in the mirror hanging over her childhood bed. That’s not my face, she thought.…
Three Poems by Matthew Broaddus

It’s Good to Be Ashurnaspiral II The dunes part. Enter oasis. I emerge from the desert on my immaculate Bactrian, sipping an adult beverage from one of those neon crazy straws and tipping my hat to no one in particular. My pride of lions, cast in copper radiance by the god Ninagal, tails me and…