note: many of these things didn't come out in 2013, but I read them in 2013

there will be more end of the year stuff coming later


This poem has 518 words. It was published in Everyday Genius.  

The fish tanks would algae over and the cichlids / would be forced to daydream towards nothing, / slowly regressing to the dark parts of the glass box / until tiny bodies lined the sealed corners of the tank / from bottom to top, sleepless fish with half-dead eyes, / their creepiness reaching me on the spot, even now. 

To read more of Sarah Jean Alexander’s writing, visit her website.  

This poems has 326 words.  It was published in have u seen my whale #1.  Yuri Gagarin was a soviet cosmonaut, the first man to journey into outer space.  He died at the age of 34, in a jet crash.  

*spoiler alert* / we will b lonely ghosts a long long time / and matter will arrange itself / into our ashes built into a goddamn palace wall / lol / matter will arrange itself into a world without us \m/

To read more of Crispin Best's writing, visit his website.

just elsewhere explosions by Mike Bushnell

This poem was published in Keep This Bag Away From Children #2.

To buy Mike Bushnell’s poetry book ‘TRAUMAHAWK’ click here.  You can find him on twitter here.

This poem has 118 words.  It was originally published in Cooper's novel 'Period.'  It’s a poem about George Miles, a very close high school friend of Cooper’s who killed himself.  To read more about George Miles—who Cooper says was ‘the most important person I’ve ever known’ click here.

I can’t stumble backwards. / Not even a daydream will light my way there. / Its history is historical. / Its point’s been forgotten / and I grow inconsolable / when I think about then, / then so numb to everything else / I beg myself to reopen.

A new collection of poetry by Dennis Cooper called 'The Weaklings (XL)' is being published by Sentenia Books.  It is the first full-length poetry collection Cooper has published in almost two decades.  I also recommend saying hi to Dennis on his blog, because he's nice and has read lots of interesting books.

This poem has 379 words.  It was published in Hobart.  

Outside there is a singular bird / seemingly shrieking out / into nothing, performing the sadness / that I project onto her. It sounds / like a nervous breakdown, / I know this. I feel it / in the vibrato and the tree / branches, given temporary meaning, / clutched by light bird feet,

To buy Gabby Bess' book of poems and short stories 'Alone With Other People,' click here.  To read more of Bess' writing, visit her website.  

This poem has 185 words.  It was published in The Del Sol Review.  

Old-school kick flips—no purses—under the low-hung moon, / and you could skin your knees and you could give me / carpet burn all evening in somebody’s basement, / trying to lick my nothing-tit, a baby lion / cleaning a china plate.

To buy Melissa Broder's latest book of poetry 'Meat Heart' click here.  To read more of Broder's writing, visit her website.

This poem has 358 words.  It was published in Pop Serial #4.  

i know that im profound, your an asshole for sugesting that i wouldnt already know. im the smarterst poet alive. the meter of my poems is to smart. i kiled a man by using the emotional content of a poem 

To buy Steve Roggenbuck's latest book of poetry 'if u dont love the moon your an ass hole: poems and selfies' click here.  To read more of Roggenbuck's writing, visit his website.

This poem has 208 words.  It was published in Bear Parade.  

i might work in a 24 hour laundromat! / i’m going to clean things and people will give me tips to fold and wash their laundry! / when no one is looking im going to bury my face in the clean laundry and smell it! / i won’t have any co-workers! / i will sit in the laundromat at 2 in the morning alone and smell things and listen to dryers! 

To buy Kennedy's book of poetry and short stories 'sometimes my heart pushes my ribs' click here.  

This poem has 227 words.  It was published in The Battersea Review.  

In the beginning I was happier. / The rocks spun. So close the air was to my face / I sparely breathed. It was a cold man / with thoughts like this: / there is no end to what was done.

To buy's Stephen Sturgeon's book of poetry 'Trees of the Twentieth Century' click here.  You can find Sturgeon on twitter here.

This poem has 207 words.  It was published in Heartcloud.  She talks about the poem a little bit in this interview.

and when the thunder pulls in / seagulls will scatter// shake sand from their fur / onto pigeons pacing in the parking lot & / a person there, thinking  “these moments might be the majority of life / so i’ll try to enjoy cool air on bare skin / and how the grey sky reflects concrete,

To read Shipton's poetry collection 'I AM TRYING TO DESTROY SOMETHING' click here.  To read more of her writing, visit her website. 

Nocturne 223: I, II, II by Luna Miguel  -- (translated from the original spanish by Jeremy Spencer)
to read part II, click here // to read part III, click here // for part I, you should buy her book

Part I of this poem has 121 words, part II has 80 words, part III has 134 words.  It was published (in english) in Miguel's book of poetry 'Bluebird and Other Tattoos.'

Crowded transportation: home. / I will end up dizzy / in the ditch two euros eighty five / cents. / And every hour the journey / is more / dangerous / and every hour / the bed / is more / strange. / I will end up sending / Continental Auto / to hell.

To buy Miguel's book of poetry 'Bluebird and Other Tattoos' click here.  To read more of her writing, visit her website.

the only confirmed cast member is ook the owl who hasbeen tapped to play the snowy white owl who delivers mail for harry by Jane Yeh
video of Yeh reading this poem

This poem has 213 words.  It was published in Yeh's poetry collection 'Marabou.'  In the video above, she says that the title was taken from a newspaper article about the first Harry Potter movie.

My greatest talent is impersonation— / To simulate a person’s idea of an owl. / Sadly, I owe my success to typecasting.

To buy Jane Yeh's poetry collection 'Marabou' click here.  To read more of Yeh's writing, visit her website.

This poem has 94 words.  It was published in Gonzalez' poetry collection 'i will never be beautiful enough to make us beautiful together'.  

and when I wear your misshapen cashmere sweater tonight / it will feel like I’m putting my face on you again / in order to perceive a very small thing inside your chest

To buy Mira Gonzalez' book of poetry 'i will never be beautiful enough to make us beautiful together' click here.  To read more of her writing, visit her website.

by Walter Mackey

This poem has 198 words.

i’m doing everything in my power to stop myself from thinking about you when i jerk off, but much like that nelly furtado song, these days, i’m finding myself “powerless”, and even though i really like that other nelly furtado song, i am not a “promiscuous girl”

To buy Walter Mackey's poetry collection 'i want to die' click here.  You can find him on facebook here.

This poem has 403 words.  It was published in her poetry collection 'obliterate the following items from the beginning of time.'  

walking on the beach / on vacation / i approached / an ornate sand castle / decorated with flowers / and grasses / and the thoughtful peaks and canals / of at least four kids / i ran over it / and stomped on it / i turned it into a unkempt lump / and i ran away as i heard them / coming after me

To read Thais Benoit's poetry collection 'obliterate the following items from the beginning of time' click here.  You can find her on twitter here.

This poem has 108 words and 1 wikipedia link. 

its been nearly 20 years / and bubka is still king / for more info please check out my website / HTTP://EN.WIKIPEDIA.ORG/WIKI/MEN’S_POLE_VAULT_WORLD_RECORD_PROGRESSION / i know it is a wikipedia / but its basically my personal site / due to how much i am the best / at vaulting using poles

To buy Spencer Madsen's poetry collection 'A Million Bears' click here.  To read more of his writing, visit his website.

This poem has 263 words.  It was published in Maierhofer's poetry collection 'ode to a vincent gallo nightingale.'

and as I’ve watched the world change through these filters / my instagram has grown in popularity. It is now huge! / I have become the don king of the instagram world / I herald the up-and-coming coffee shops / or plates of food / or ‘selfies’ / and if I haven’t seen them / they do not exist

To buy Grant Maierhofer's poetry collection 'ode to a vincent gallo nightingale' click here, or to buy his novel 'The Persistence of Crows' click here.  To read more of Maierhofer's writing, visit his website.

This poem has 149 words.  It was published in Morissette's collection of short stories and poems 'I Am My Own Betrayal.'

what gets me out of my head / is actively avoiding conversations with shitty people, / who have dissociated themselves from willpower / and are excuse-driven.  I am willpower-driven / and mdma-driven also.

To buy Guillaume Morissette's book 'I Am My Own Betrayal' click here.  To read more of his writing, visit his website.

This poem has 142 words.  It was published in Kopel's poetry collection 'Victory.'

She ripped her lucky / tour t-shirt when they went swimming, the two / of them all clavicle and nipple from the waist / straight up, the six-pack rings wrapped around / their wrists shocking the sleeping salesmen, / spilling their paperwork across their pornography / while her father woke up across the city / just in time to greet the garbage men.

To buy Ben Kopel's book of poetry 'Victory' click here.  You can find him on facebook here.

This poem has 320 words.  It was published in Lasky's poetry collection 'Thunderbird.'

If only I had been born / A fish / Instead of a monster / If only the water were my only home / I would swim so quietly / I would not say hello to you / I would no longer be sad / I would still be me though / And I would not let you catch me / For your dinner / And when you wanted to eat me for your dinner / I would disappear

To buy Dorothea Lasky's collection of poetry 'Thunderbird' click here.  To read more of her writing, visit her website.


I would guess that this story has between 1,000-1,500 words.  It was originally published in his short story collection 'Orange Juice.'  I don't want to reproduce the entire published story because I'm lazy and I don't have permission.  You should just buy the book though, it's really good.

Jackie looks at Dan sleeping and thinks “I have to tell him.”  She doesn’t want to be naked.  She imagines screaming and jumping out of Dan’s window and landing in the grass.  She looks at her new phone.  Jackie has three texts from Dan-in-Chicago.

There’s a nice smell in Dan’s room.  Jackie looks at Dan’s hair.  She remembers he has nice-smelling shampoo which seems to withstand other smells.  Jackie is afraid to smell her hair.  She thinks “Why is Dan-in-Chicago so bald?”

Jackie thinks, “What the fuck.”  She stares at the ceiling.  Jackie imagines the crack in the ceiling is a mouth.  The mouth says, “Horseshoe.  You took Dan there to tell him about Dan-in Chicago.  You drank too much, idiot.”

To buy Timothy Willis Sanders' short story collection 'Orange Juice' click here.  To read more of his writing, visit his website.

This story has 2,545 words.  It was published in her short story collection 'Normally Special.'

After I am done looking for ruins, I lie on the dock, on my back, and pull my tank top up to my boobies. I rub my belly in the sun. I pray nobody comes but I also hope they do. Nobody ever does. Dragonflies land on the rowboat rope and then they fly away and then they come back and then they fly away again. Sometimes they land on my knees. It’s quiet there. The water never moves. It doesn’t really have a shore. Its outsides are mostly cattails, and by the dock, lily pads. Every so often there are clear plops that break the hum of the cicadas that like to do their buzz when it’s so hot outside. Their buzz sounds like how the sun feels hot. The wet frog plops are the only cool sound out there. The middle of the mill pond is a perfect circle. The water is black like it refuses to reflect the sky or can’t. From the sky, looking down on the mill pond, I’m sure it looks like a big green eye-ball, the cattail heads brown flecks in the green, its middle the shiny black pupil, staring up at the clouds. Like me.

To buy xTx's short story collection 'Normally Special' click here.  You can find her on twitter here.

This story has 2,009 words.  It was published in Mammal.  The story is dedicated to Victoria Selavy, who passed away this year.

Malcolm sees Claire lift her sundress to the base of her neck. Claire’s chest cavity opens like a cabinet. About 20 missiles launch from behind Claire’s ribcage. They fly in jittery parabolic trajectories. 1 missile hits a tree and ricochets. The other missiles converge on 2nd Claire’s torso and legs. Malcolm sees the ricocheted missile impact a nearby office building. The windows surrounding the impact shatter.

Malcolm feels awestricken. Claire has nice breasts, thinks Malcolm. Malcolm stands still. Claire runs to where 2nd Claire was. Malcolm sees Claire pick up 2nd Claire’s detached head. Malcolm doesn’t think words for a while. After 15 seconds, Claire drops the detached head on the ground.

“Fuck,” says Claire. Claire walks rapidly to Malcolm and looks up at him with a worried facial expression. “Are you okay?”

To read Stephen Michael McDowell's novella 'Treees' click here.  To read more of his writing, visit his website.

This story was published in  


To buy Tao Lin's latest novel 'Taipei' click here.  To read more of his writing, visit his website.

This story has 165 words, and 10 footnotes.  It was published in Gretsy's short story and poetry collection 'Every September since 2005.'

How angular your body is and how much I want to touch you[1], where are the cookies in the pantry, I really like those chocolate covered Belgian ones, when will this bikini look good on me[2], I hope I don’t get a tan- I like that you’re so tanned, what dress should I wear next Thursday for Yom Kippur services[3].

[1] You weigh 135 pounds and have collarbones like an aristocratic 17th century Augustan painting, in the shadows they are chiaroscuro and I want to put my tongue between the dip in your clavicle

[2] Your father asked you what you wanted for dinner at the beach and then turned to me and said I know you haven’t eaten. I didn’t know what to say. Yes, you noticed.

[3] A Shiksa in the temple, I cried, profusely, when they talked about forgiveness and thought about my father and when I would forgive him; if; when, if I could, I could find him; what I would do if I found him; the deluge of tears made your family wonder if I was ‘okay’.

To read Paige Gresty's poetry & short story collection 'Every September since 2005' click here.  To read more of her writing, visit her website.

This story has 1,629 words.  It was published in 3AM Magazine.

She looked in her rear view mirror and saw his back turned to her. A giant invisible hand holding a vacuum reached down from the sky, through her windshield, into her mouth, down her windpipe, into her lungs, plugged itself in, and sucked out all of her air. This was the moment she realized she was infected with a virus. The virus made her unlovable. There was no cure for it. She began to cry. She cried long, broken sobs. Her face felt hot. Her nose ran. She howled like a sea lion. She reminded herself of a very lonely sea lion, in an aquarium, making terrible noises, being watched by people who were sort of bored and probably thinking about dinner.

To buy Megan Boyle's book 'selected unpublished blog posts of a mexican panda express employee' click here.  To read more of her writing, visit her website.

This story has 1,240 words.  It was published in The Newer York.

it was early December/ Christmas time in America/ everyone in America was getting ready for the holidays/ they were buying presents, Bing Crosby was playing on the radio, they were putting up trees and lights/ everyone was getting excited for Christmas-

          The only place in Korea that wanted to celebrate Christmas was Caffee Bene, they put up cute decorations and played random covers of Christmas songs that Justin had never heard/

          No one else in Korea cared about Christmas.

          Justin kept trying to remember Christmases that came before/ trying to picture them perfectly/

          He would recollect the Christmas 1989 in his grandmother’s house/ everyone sitting around in a circle handing out presents/ he remembered the Christmas of 1991 when Uncle Henry’s pond froze over and everyone got to go ice skating on Christmas night/ Justin’s theory was that if he could remember Christmas hard enough, he would need not need America for the Christmas of 2012/

To buy Noah Cicero's latest novel 'Go To Work and Do Your Job. Care for Your Children. Pay Your Bills. Obey the Law. Buy Products' click here.  To read more of Cicero's writing, visit his website.  

Reduction by Juliet Escoria

This story has 793 words.  It was published in Hobart -- click here for a text version.

But we’d lay on my sheets and sweat and not move, and I’d look at him, I’d look right into him, and I knew we were cut from the same sheer cloth. Apart, on our own, we were pale and flimsy, but on top of each other we gained shape, could almost stand straight up. It made sense, and it wasn’t just the drugs.

In 2014, Civil Coping Mechanisms will be publishing Juliet Escoria's book of short stories 'Black Cloud.'  To read more of her writing, visit her website.

This story has 2,203 words.  It was published in Thought Catalog.

Dearest Deanna,

where are you right now?!?! i’m dying of inattention. pretty soon i will disown you as a friend and ride my bike through a third-story window. what is your favorite lou reed song? right now mine is “street hassle.” if you don’t love that song you are fucking stupid. i have never emailed you before. this is a momentous occasion. let us pray. deanna. i want to tell you something. that time when you took groucho for a walk and you asked me if you smelled like stanky ass dog and i said no, it was a lie. you totally smelled like dog. in fact, 2 out of 3 times i see you you reek of dog. please take more showers.

yr friend in hell,
Mari xoxo

To check out Stephen Tully Dierk's magazine Pop Serial, click here.  To read more writing by Dierks, visit his website.

This story has 749 words.  It was published in Everyday Genius.

I found the twitter feed of a gainer a couple of months ago.

He started at 205lbs in 2002 and is now at 560. He doubled his weight in exactly five years and hit 500 in March of 2011.

The feed led to a formspring where he has been documenting his gain more extensively. He has many fans, people who like to follow his progress. He posts headless photographs of himself standing in the same position (one foot up on a chair) and in the same pair of shorts (which he wears exclusively for the photo documentation).

It is a mistake to think that this is entirely sexual, but it is also a mistake to think it’s entirely not.

To check out Giancarlo Ditrapano's magazine/publishing company New York Tyrant, click here.  This is their twitter account.

This story has 567 words.  It was published in Volume1 Brooklyn.

I can see a little life in you today, he says. The older security guard here can always talk to her and make eye contact. Without wanting to, Chloe says, I can see a little life in you, repeating him, still waiting for the elevator. So many elevators. He presses the lit button a few times, which she finds strangely soothing. Chloe doesn’t know why she said what she said, although it felt natural. Instead of thinking about it, she breathes in deeply and pretends she can see him from the back of her head. She mouths, I can see a little life in you. Chloe steadies her face in the window, becoming brave and exhausted when the elevator opens.

To buy Richard Chiem's short story collection 'You Private Person' click here.  To read more of Chiem's writing, visit his website.

This story has 1,647 words. 

I stared at the black sky and thought, Can I refuse to get into the ambulance, I don’t have health insurance, I wonder if any of these people will drive me to my parents’ house. Some new faces appeared and blocked my vision of the sky, and they said some words and I don’t know if I responded properly but I just wanted to say, “Let me be very clear here, guys, I don’t have health insurance, how much is this gonna run me, I didn’t even get paid yet tonight,” but I didn’t say any of that and soon they were turning me over onto my side and slipping a stretcher underneath me. A pain on the lower right side of my abdomen shot through me, my entire spine felt like it had fallen apart, and the back of my head felt wetter. My hair is very dark, could they see that it was wet back there? What if they don’t check? Something is going on in the back of my head, it’s not supposed to feel like that.

To read more of Sarah Jean Alexander's writing, visit her website.

For by Zachary German

To buy Zachary German's novel 'Eat When You Feel Sad' click here.  You can find him on facebook here.  

This story has 2,036 words.  It was published in MuuMuu House.

I’d been hanging out with this guy who lived in an alley behind a carwash.

Tonight when I went to go see him, he wasn’t there.

Instead there were two teenaged kids—a girl sitting on a parking block and an overweight guy sitting on my homeless friend’s bed, drawing on post office mailing stickers.

I’d met him before.

He was a runaway who stayed in the alley sometimes.

"Hey man," I said, waving to him, and then introduced myself to the girl.

"Hey I’m Samantha," she said. "Here du’."

She reached into her backpack and gave me a tallboy of Steel Reserve.

She laughed like ‘Ti-ha.’

To buy Sam Pink's most recent novel 'Rontel' click here.  To read more of Pink's writing, visit his website.

This story has 2,501 words.  It was published in Aeon Magazine. 

I spent the summer staying up all night. When everyone else was asleep, I was out in the gloaming with the livestock and the wildfowl, searching for a rare, endangered bird. I returned each morning to the tiny rented half-a-house above the harbour town where I went to school. Here, they call me ‘the corncrake wife’. For the past two summers, I’ve been working on a conservation project as the corncrake officer for the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB) in the Orkney Islands, off the north coast of Scotland.

You can find Amy Liptrot on twitter here.  To read more of her writing, visit her website.

This story has 7,531 words.  It was published in Mammal.

I carry my daughter up to bed and tuck her in. I tell her not to be sad. That it wasn’t a big deal. She says she’s sorry and starts crying harder. I tell her not to worry. That she made a mistake and I was just trying to teach her instead of just telling her what to do. That I wanted her to do it on her own so that the next time she’d know. I tell her that nothing she does could make me love her any less. She says, “but I made a mistake.” I tell her that she’s going to make a thousand mistakes, that I expect her to and that that’s totally ok. I tell her that I made a mistake by talking to her the way that I did. That I’m way older than her but continue to make mistakes, that that’s how we learn and that learning is the single most important thing we can do as humans. She asks me if I still love her. I tell her of course and that she’s my favorite person in the whole world. I ask her if she still loves me and she says yes. She stops crying. I hug her and give her a kiss and tell her goodnight though my heart still breaks for her in tiny increments.

You can find Chuck Young on facebook here.

This story has 617 words.  It was published in Keep This Bag Away From Children.

Cities and the Adventurer

Imagine this: on the way to your home, one day, as regular as the day with white clouds, the blue sky, a long road, and a black handbag that turns to grey because you have carried it too many times, an old face, and dim streetlights that always walk home with you.  Trundling by the handrail of the bridge on the way home, you start to look back on your daily life. The first day you were hired, you thought your life would be steady. It was steady but it keeps repeating. You start to wonder about your future, your past, your memory, your goals, your reason to exist, your passion, the end of your days, being loved and being hated, and your approach. When the night comes, there is a stranger sitting on your couch, waiting for your arrival. He wears a top hat and a scarlet collar and tie. With a sham smile, he says, “You have been waiting for me. This is the day. Welcome back!” He gives you a golden key and asks you to open the volute doorknob, the door that you have noticed before in your room but have never tried to open. You feel anxious and dizzy and you wait. After he leaves, you grab the doorknob and you see a long, narrow, dark road that extends from your room. You walk in and start the first day of spring.

In the city, there is no formula to follow, but there is always a decision that waits to be explored.

You can find Chia-Lun Chang on facebook here.

directed by Riley Michael Parker

This was published in Metazen.

To buy Chelsea Martin's most recent book 'Even Though I Don't Miss You' click here.  To read more of Martin's writing, visit her website.

This story has 1,753 words.  It was published in Pop Serial #4.  It's an excerpt from McClanahan's novel 'Crapalachia.'

Bill was famous for his troll love. One night a few weeks back Bill and Lee got into it.  Lee said something to Bill about his Mom’s crotchless panties and Bill just flipped. He punched Lee harder than shit in the shoulder and so Lee started chasing him. They ran outside the apartment building. Bill was barefoot and bare-chested and only wearing Dallas Cowboy boxer shorts. It had been raining. He ran out into the rain and the muddy yard.

Lee was chasing him—and then all of a sudden…Bill…slipped….his feet went out from under him…the troll flew high into the air.

And then everybody moved in slow motion too.


To buy McClanahan's novel 'Crapalachia' click here.  To read more of his writing, visit his website.

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