Monthly Archives: March 2011
Night Depository
A slobbering kiss over a plate of chicken thighs and bratwurst brought up Duane’s rabid imagination. No one, except the handmaid of his deranged after-hour digressions, his girlfriend Flo, was privy to his ful-filling late-night hobby. Duane waddled around his … Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
A Paper Brain and Unsung Mountain Song
A Paper Brain I position, like a bonnet, a paper brain there, thin and lace, dried apricot slow thought as he carries his words above him in tall antlers. And like another woman swimming in his thoughts, the waters form … Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
The Helen Keller Ice Cream Social
There’s blood on her arms. I don’t know how long she’s been lying here. She’s wearing black pajamas. I used to laugh that she always dresses up like the Viet Cong when she’s angry. I’m not laughing today. She’s awake, … Continue reading
Filed under Nonfiction
hey lenin did you know it’s x-mas
Where all the lights go down w/ a hot fizz, like bulbs-flashing w/ promise & dying in the cold dark: the anti-poem is written, as an addendum-on a maxim basis. It’s playing backwards on Lou Reed’s Sad Song. It’s the … Continue reading
Falling Off the Fence
I tell them I’m not going to pay the equivalent of another ticket for my bags. With a flourish I ask the lady at the desk whether I should just prop the bags in the seat next to me for … Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
Wasted and In darkness of solitude
Wasted Bludgeoning this image of you, until I cannot lift my arms anymore and my back hurts. Still and thoughtful, I sit, panting and waiting for you to move or make a sound at all. I’m so tired, but at … Continue reading
Picking Up Cowboys
I’m not in the habit of picking up cowboys. It puts me in an untenable position, since I know baseball caps and pick-up trucks are not my type and any fool can see I’m not that kinda girl. But there … Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
fertile mother of madness and in the dead city
fertile mother of madness the fertile mother of madness tears another fetus from her barbwire womb and throws it at sumptuous walls where asylums construct themselves from words and constriction in the homeless throat. meaningless the seed is and love … Continue reading
The Shed
These boys are not from here. Slicked backed hair, body-hugging polyester pants, gold medallions nestled on their exposed, chiseled hairy chests, John Travolta struts. These are the boys I met in Bensonhurst at a disco. I didn’t think they’d come … Continue reading
Filed under Nonfiction
Blythe, California and Alone in a House (with introduction by Lauren Cummings)
Dear Readers, This February TWF reached its second year of publication. To celebrate we featured new work by our first four contributors. These four authors were instrumental in helping TWF become what it is today. We would be amiss however … Continue reading
