Poetry in Lotion
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Spring 2013
No. 8
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Lynn Bey, Peter Blauner, Steve Danziger, Sam Edsill, B.G. Firmani, Lou Gaglia, Tadzio Koelb, Charles Lamar Phillips, Wally Rudolph, Dave Schofield

Media: The Latest • Fiction • Non-Fiction • Poetry
Fiction, Long(er) Reads May 16, 2013

Holy Land USA by

It had been his idea to go to the Holy Land.

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Fiction, Flash May 16, 2013

I Give What I Get by

He calls me over with snapping fingers. Seeing as I tend bar, this is him being funny.

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Fiction, Long(er) Reads May 16, 2013

Conception by

Claire and I used to spend our weekends shopping for cribs. She had the perfect one in mind, shaped like an airplane, with wings on the sides and a removable toy cockpit you could put in it, for the baby to play with.

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Fiction, Flash May 15, 2013

The Chair by

Brown Chair

As Arturo Burgos read the computer screen over his daughter’s shoulder, he let out a cry of anguish so sharp his wife came running into the room.

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Fiction, Long(er) Reads May 15, 2013

Porter, Amy by

Ten minutes ago, Porter’s sequined schoolgirl skirt shot vanilla scented lightening across the club. I didn’t see where it landed.

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Art May 14, 2013

Whalen Gallery by

View art by Patrick Whalen.

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Fiction May 10, 2013

An Unknown Soldier

For a while she left me waiting, leaning lightly on the little demi-lune table, its two ornate legs the claws of an animal, its blunt other side dependent on the wall beside the front door.

Fiction May 10, 2013

Hospital Death

“Nurse!” I shout but it doesn’t carry far past the metal rail of my bed.

Audio May 8, 2013

Gary Percesepe reads still life

POETRY by AUTHOR

Poetry May 8, 2013

still life

but there are these
fragments to consider

Fiction May 8, 2013

Advice

Like many Southerners, my father was a casually brutal man, but I learned over time to stand up to him. So maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised that he asked my advice when his marriage with my mother ran afoul.

Fiction May 7, 2013

Another Diana

Philosophy class, and Professor Stevens was already talking at 8 A.M., shoving the hair away from his eyes, pacing and talking and not looking at anyone. Sartre again. Being and Nothingness, like it meant something what he was saying.