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1.in the pistachio-shell hours of some thousand grassy nights.innumerable like feet on street cornersand all their destinations. my mom’s new car belonged to someone’s old son,its duct-tape flapping as she speeds, the bumper banging along,happily and in disruption, mile after mile afterrrr 2.i walked from one city to the nextContinue Reading

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we build home out of half a whatever.a deck of cards smeared across the asphaltour hands slapping wildly like flying fish.a watery tongue spills over the rock ledgeand licks at the salt of our spilled trail mix. i’d write to the water but i’d be wrong.we don’t come for theContinue Reading

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I hadn’t been to a laundromat in a while. I knew where one was, though, about a mile from our house. It was right near Church Street where it crossed Niles Center Road, in a grim-looking strip mall alongside a Thai restaurant, a nail salon, and a medical supply store.Continue Reading

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Jeremy Szuder is a born and bred California native, raised with a tender and dedicated loyalty to the arts. His works have been published in Fine Print Literary and Visual Arts Publication, After Happy Hour Review, All The Sins, Home Sick Zine, several issues of L.A. Record Magazine as wellContinue Reading

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Jeremy Szuder is a born and bred California native, raised with a tender and dedicated loyalty to the arts. His works have been published in Fine Print Literary and Visual Arts Publication, After Happy Hour Review, All The Sins, Home Sick Zine, several issues of L.A. Record Magazine as wellContinue Reading

On:

I heard there were no gun laws in Texasso I rented a Taurus and droveto Thom Young’s house,running over prairie dogs and singing the newBlake Shelton Christmas song.And when I got thereI bought a rifle and some nightcrawlersand we fished in a puddle behind the Allsup’s.But the fish didn’t wantContinue Reading

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I don’t remember when it startedbut the end came last Tuesday.I’d taken a Xanax and slept all day,seeing an old girlfriendand my dead dogin dreams or nightmaresor some other hell that I’ll get to reliveif I don’t get this one right.And when I finally wokeI couldn’t ignore what all theContinue Reading

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The Portland Pessimist Society was founded in 1984 by Felicia Gay, Rose Brightwell, Gladys Hope, and Joy S. Young. The PPS credo is a four-point “Litany of Grievances”: (1) Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz is the worst person to have ever lived.(2) Be disheartened.(3) Sunshine on the shoulder may lead to skinContinue Reading

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I stare out the window, a wistful sigh dangling off my chapped lips. From forty-four floors above the ground, the tiny people look like little ants – ants scurrying about in their heels and skirts and suits, ants with their solid-colored briefcases and someplace important to be. Ants with longContinue Reading

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Part I: A severed head with its eyelids cut off.  The floating mass, rounded by gravity, orbiting a star, hosted billions of little organisms that named themselves human. They received our gift. Part II: Pandemic From onset to death, it requires one to five days. The average time is threeContinue Reading