by Mohit Saini We wander in the margins of a book, where footnotes bloom like untamed vines, each asterisk a door left slightly ajar— a breath of elsewhere. The spine cracks, and the chapters rebel, plotting detours in the subtext. We follow the scent of ink, lured by digressions dressed as roads. The author’s hand hesitates, then…
by Matt Zambito One day, someone’s gonna get an itch they can’t scratch without their trigger finger’s help and push the button they will. All the governments with known nukes already ready to turn the world to rubble remain part of an international mutually assured destruction pact, and I don’t even trust my next-door neighbor Ned won’t heave his whippet’s waste into my yard. Even if Heaven is an absolute blast, I don’t wanna end time on Earth just because nations are bad fictions. Radio- active annihilation sounds awful as awful could be: and it…
by Christopher Stolle Everyone here is in the middle of something. We’ve come from different places and we’re headed somewhere after this. People talk incessantly, voices blending into hummingbird murmurs. They reminisce about previous trips and decide how to get to their hotels and discuss how best to solve myriad conundrums— an existential exercise in folly and futility. But these imperfect strangers find commonality in this singular activity. They converse politely despite knowing they’ll never see each…