Obama memoir sets records for PRH
PRH buys Simon & Schuster for $2 billion
Audible adjusts its return policy following complaints
Joy Harjo to serve a third term as US Poet Laureate
Disney gives authors the shaft
National Book Award winners announced
Recent Fiction
There, I Said It, by Tori Malcangio
In the dark, from my twin bed, I listen to Romy and her latest visitor in the sheets.
Recent Poetry
Lunchtime at the Café Buade, Quebec City, by Barbara P. Greenbaum
There is a woman in the booth next to us. / She looks at me as I remove my new hat.
Recent CNF
Big Girls Like Us, by Kelly Flynn
Every time I see my father, he asks me if I have lost weight. He has done this since I was a child.
Proctoring
by Michael Lauchlan
Among students, I drink the same / coffee I drank at home an hour / ago—which is not some philosophical metaphor.
Down in the Station
by Seth Sawyers
In the station a black woman with thick braids played the cello. I thought she was good, but I don’t know if she really was good, because what do I know about the cello?
My Mother Has a Cult Following
by Siobhan Adcock
My mother has a cult following. It’s not as big as my father’s, because her band hasn’t sold as many records as his.
Sefeed
by Mathew Javidi
If I could go back, / I would have clutched my tongue, / not let it pirouette into / the soft, dim spotlight of / your living room
Monastery
by Alicia Lai
Once I entered into a symbiotic relationship with a praying mantis, wings folded / at our altar of Queen Anne’s lace. There is wine on the table—father, please don’t / let the calf bleed on me.
Dark Rum & Tonic
by Molly Fisk
Sometimes what you need is a road / house, blast of laughter and warm air pouring / out the door, where the waitresses know / your name but the customers don’t
A Capitalist Back to Nature
by Robert S. King
Here is the last forest that has never / heard the crisp snap of a dollar / or a siren louder than a crow. / Here the wind does not honor / the borders of a deed.
Rabbit Suit
by Julia Lynn Rubin
When I look at the sky, I don’t see color. The man in the rabbit suit doesn’t either. I know this because I asked him one summer, when the air smelled like burning pavement.
Five by Perchik
by Simon Perchik
This dirt still mimics sweat / lies down alongside, unsure / your lips would quiet it / though the finger that is familiar / probably is yours –could be enough
Warped Optimism
by Diane Payne
After making the one hundred mile drive with my daughter for the Breast MRI appointment, she takes off to meet an old friend who is a medical student at the hospital.
Book du jour
by Katie Manning
Open Contests
by Stephen Parrish, with the editors of The Lascaux Review
The Lascaux Prize Volume Six
