The Observer

The Ugly Confession

June 3, 2011

Filed under Literary

By Sam Michaux Contributing Writer Published: May 1, 2008 He pulls out and falls on the bed next to her. “I usually don’t do this sort of thing,” she pants. Looking at her, his original attraction is re-manifested by his memory; she looks like Terese. “Oh?” He had put the condom on with some grace: k...

Square Things, Full SoundsBy Dillon Droege Contributing Writer

June 3, 2011

Filed under Literary

By Dillon Droege Contributing Writer Published: May 1, 2008 “Take off your shoes and put out that cigarette.” I’m motioning towards the floor, which I have Saran-wrapped wall-to-wall. “Why?” “Listen, Chief, you want to do this or—you want to do this or what?” I can’t have you smoking.” So I plucke...

A Study of Two

June 2, 2011

Filed under Literary

  By Madelyn Biven Contributing Writer Published: April 3, 2008   He puts dry rice in the salt shaker and uses Dog ears to mark the suffix of his recipes: (How to Cook Without Using Rust). His tobacco flakes collect on ketchup in a Styrofoam Cup. (Use fewer condiments). A cala lily casts...

The Listening

June 2, 2011

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By Megan Stillwell Contributing Writer Published: April 3, 2008 I’ve felt the pulp of your mouth, its red poppy blooming when your thin lips offer the salt-blood of the earth: the easy, softening tongue and pearly knives of teeth that relentlessly search for the bursting of buds in my fingertips...

The Meal

June 2, 2011

Filed under Literary

By Megan Stillwell Contributing Writer Published: April 3, 2008   She types at her desk in the dim light, her spine jutting out like pearls on a string, her pale skin stretched like canvas over her thin frame. Inside, her body takes inventory- which organs remain and what to eat of them. She moves the coa...

Nimbus 

June 2, 2011

Filed under Literary

By Megan Stillwell Contributing Writer Published: April 3, 2008   When I meet the two spikes of your hips, the strange channel of your throat, I will write great poems about your dark, animal sleep, your body like the mythological gods of oil paintings: the rosy-tipped fingers and toes, and the sinews of...

A Place

June 1, 2011

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By Alexander Cloarec Contributing Writer Published: Febrary 14, 2008   A place of sleepiness and solitude, Of deafening silence of immeasurable magnitudes Of many stars stretched upon the heavens, sleepy and serene The luck of three sevens in a slot machine   A place of sadness and fear Of fa...

Promontory

June 1, 2011

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By Alexander Cloarec Contributing Writer Published: Febrary 14, 2008   I know that many tales were fated to last These tales are countless worlds, bound together by present and past I saw a sea of stars stretched upon the heavens and the flowing moonlight My tale was just one of those stars, guiding my pat...

THE JAGUAR

June 1, 2011

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By Catherine Daubenspeck Literary Editor Published: Febrary 14, 2008 The past, made up of mistakes, violence, foolishness, deceits and lies, was, at least, certain. In lieu of errors and unreasonable beliefs, contemplation was rarely held separate from action, and auspicious decisions were made frequently, through which we ...

Upon Leaving

June 1, 2011

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By MEGAN STILLWELL Contributing Writer Published: January 31, 2008   My mother tells me about walking the same earth as Einstein as a child, a bashful brunette with handsome, Catholic parents and an aluminum tub in the kitchen for bathing; then everything seems romantic, even that truck, there, ...

Nude Traveling to a Canvas

June 1, 2011

Filed under Literary

By ELIZABETH FOREST Contributing Writer Published: January 31, 2008 In those days making love was clean because minds were. There was a sense of beginning then, between her toes.  There was a breath of morning in the room, even deep into the evening when he would wander down the hall and find her door ajar, slip in and fi...

In Honor of Anne’s Loves

June 1, 2011

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By MEGAN STILLWELL Contributing Writer Published: January 31, 2008   I have snagged you like a fish, midstream, wet and wriggling: your many loves diffuse over time.   The safe country waits, songs of locked doors and heat and O, the white picket fence of gestation— we are frac...