“Of course I couldn’t keep up with Anatoli/but that didn’t keep him from refilling my shot glass./In between the endless shots of vodka/I swallowed too many pieces of salted Black Sea fish.” A new poem by Dan Grossman.
Time to get another punch on your Punchnel’s Punchcard. This one’s about stuff we get for free and what that costs everyone involved.
“*This position is physically demanding.*/*This position is NOT topless.*/*You must provide own tail.*” A new poem by Christina M. Rau.
“Will take up very little space in your home./Good cook. Does own dishes. Will write you/sweet notes, at first. No recommendations.” From “Want Ad,” one of two new poems by Andrew J Khaled Madigan.
“As I drove home that night,/I was nearly certain we could, if nothing/more, save each other.” A new poem by Joshua Huber.
“I was never going to be one of those people standing alongside other creative movers and shakers, guiding photographers through hallways beautifully decorated with antiques. As much as I hate to admit it, no one wants to take a tour of my old PEZ dispensers.” New work from Alex Ebel.
“My younger brother, Gus, doesn’t go to class reunions. He doesn’t meet up with friends at the local bar or exchange pictures on social networks. In fact, he rarely sees his friends. But when he does, there’s always a casket.” A personal essay on the drug crisis in Scott County, Indiana, by Meryl Diaz.
“When I feel like nothing will ever be worthwhile again, I read Joan Didion’s essay ‘The White Album’ to remind myself how good something can be.” “The White Album” has become part of Michael Nagel.
Middle aged, young, and even a few old Europeans were everywhere, generally behaving like American college students on spring break: vomiting on things, yelling, leaving piles of trash in pristine parks, randomly pretending to be DJs, and tripping me when I got off the plane.
A new Random Review by Jen Bingham