Archives

THREE MICROS THAT TICK by Daniel Seifert

June 21, 2024

Yesterday came the decree And today it comes into force. We must all fight like Plains Indians, from here on. That means cool your arrows. Your axe must sleep in the ground while you win prestige by counting coup: Curl yourself like a puff of wind. Inch your body to the enemy. Closer to his neck, where the soft hair curls against his pulse. Touch his body with your coup stick—you have won. Steal his horse if you want; beat the darkening air with your cries. But the battle is over now, if you want it. *** Press

FUZZ by Tim Bird

June 20, 2024

WHAT THE BODY WOULD NOT HOLD by Liana Meffert

June 19, 2024

(Spring) We have to count several times to get the numbers right. There are so many. Superior right buttock, inferior left buttock, and flank, right temple, right chest, left lower leg, and thigh. And when the counts agree, we sit down to call his mother, who doesn’t answer, but calls back several minutes later. Whether she believes us or not is beside the point; she hangs up. I hate this. Wouldn’t you? We call the medical examiner and the organ donation center, who will in turn call her, and then she will begin to believe, or won’t. There isn’t a

GENDER BENDERS AND GENRE BLENDERS: Victoria Brooks and Jack Skelley in Conversation

June 18, 2024

Two freaky fiction writers chat. Jack Skelley, author of The Complete Fear of Kathy Acker (Semiotext(e), 2023) joins Victoria Brooks, author of Silicone God (Moist, 2023). Fear of Kathy Acker is a cult hit embraced by young readers. Skelley’s new book of stories is Myth Lab (Far West Press, 2024). Silicone God is a strange strain of post-human, science fiction/body horror by “Queer Mistress Wife Human” (Brooks’ Instagram name). Topic A: How horny writing may reach beyond tired categories of sexual and textual orientation. Jack: I’ll kick it off! Victoria, I was first attracted to Silicone God for its boundary blurring. Your

The girls were odd. by Katie Antonsson

June 17, 2024

The girls were odd. They didn’t make friends, we realized too late, they collected people. A cab driver who barely spoke English, a barista with a middling art career and infected lip piercing, the neighborhood dog-walker-cum-psychedelics-dealer. We decorated their lives, and we wanted to. We were ravenous to. Every text message, every invitation to the graveyard or the beach, we simply couldn’t say no. Their magnetism was a thing to behold, a gift to feel. They ate little, like birds, claiming assorted food allergies none of us had heard of and none of us questioned. They went to a loosely

TRANSITIONAL WORDS by Reza Jabrani

June 16, 2024

I’m dating her for her looks but she’s ugly. And she’s ugly. Plus, she’s ugly. Ok, I’m not sure how these two relate, complement, contradict, combine. She has lice. The lice are nice. Alive. On me, on her, raucous nibbling on our heads, in my bed. The most action I’ve seen all century. Maybe. I’m only twelve. Or thirty. I don’t know what the last century was like. For me. For anyone. What my past lives were like. She asks me to comb her hair. Not for lice, or any sort of grooming, but because it gets her off. Despite

CROWN MOLDING by Elijah Sparkman

June 15, 2024

There was a hippopotamus that lived in the middle of a shark tank. And when the sharks were concerned about the health of the hippopotamus, they called a doctor who was a penguin. The penguin liked a girl named Cindy and every night they played hide-and-go-seek out in the barn. I know this because I am the hospital bed that the hippopotamus died on. While dying, the hippopotamus grasped me tight. There is an indent the size of him still inside me. It was unfortunate, because he couldn’t have a peaceful death. The secretary dropped something on the button that

HOW I SPROUTED WINGS by Beth Kanter

June 14, 2024

A moth grayer than I knocked on my apartment door this morning demanding that I bake her a three-tiered Meyer lemon birthday cake topped with aster, mint, rose, milkweed, and vervain. I agreed for I know what it is to crave flowers and frosting on the anniversary of one’s own arrival. So I went to the alley behind my building and whipped, blended, and folded handfuls of dirt and dandelion stems as my grandmother taught me to do long ago. Water from a rusting hose nozzle the recipe’s only binding agent. At the stroke of midnight, I presented the birthday

TRANSMISSIONS: Books of Some Substance

June 13, 2024

Welcome to Transmissions, an interview feature in which X-R-A-Y profiles podcasts. Books Of Some Substance can be found at the website, Apple podcasts and YouTube. David Southard reads. He’s written a book or two. Maybe he’ll write another someday. He co-hosts the Books Of Some Substance podcast from his home in South Korea. Nathan Sharp is a graphic designer, an amateur motorcycle mechanic, an explorer of sounds, a reader of fictions, a collector of cameras, and a fixer of discarded things. He co-hosts the Books of Some Substance podcast and lives with his partner and his cat in California. Rebecca

THE SECRET AGENT by David Hansen

June 12, 2024

After many years of covert development the CIA perfects a method of creating ghosts. It’s a huge breakthrough. The CIA feels ghosts will be the ultimate spies: invisible, non-physical, and totally disinterested, as in, not vying for personal advantage, the way living spies sometimes do. One day the department heads circulate an internal call for volunteers for “a very important mission.” All the star agents show up. Guys who are at the absolute peaks of their careers. Guys who have done it all. Wet work, PsyOps, dark ops, other stuff no one has even heard of. Company men to the