01.31 Emily Barton & Melanie Rae Thon *
03.14 Lysley Tenorio ^
03.28 Clark Coolidge *
04.25 Matthew Zapruder & Brenda Shaughnessy +
* at Memorial Hall
^ at The University Club
+ at The University Museum of Contemporary Art
Upcoming events at Flying Object
by Dustin Buchinski
Forgetting Sensation Eleanor Leonne Bennett
Horace has to bait the lure. He has to bait the lure and he uses a bottle of scent extracted from rabbits to do it. A scent extracted from pheromones of obscure glands and piss mostly. Horace walks through the kennel under the track where all the hounds look and sniff from their steel cages.
by Emily Culliton
Fangoria Nuria Rius
When I was twenty I spent this time in Moscow. Before I went, I studied Russian for a month and a half, learned five of the six cases, and thought I was doing pretty well. Then my teacher told me that the first year of Russian was devoted to the cases, the next four years to all the exceptions.
by Jason Larson
Sprouting Brian W. Ferry
“You ready for eggs, hero?” Burt’s morning glory said.
“Good morning morning glory,” Burt said. Burt stretched. Burt smiled.
by Rachel B. Glaser
Hattie held her dream by his narrow shoulders. She told him his name sounded famous to her and he blushed disappointedly.
by Mira Bartók
It’s Easter and a man and woman are eating suckling pig in a piazza. “Suck the bones,” her husband tells her. “It’s the best part, the most nutritious, where all the life is.
by Ashley Ellen Goetz
Untitled Ashley Ellen Goetz
* Note from the Editor
It was the last class of the semester and we had brought wine and food and sat in a circle and read poetry and drank our wine and ate our food. At the end of class, I offered Ashley a bottle of wine that I had brought and had remained unopened. She accepted. She offered me brie.
by Sara Jaffe
He went from being a sit-down singer to a stand-up singer, but the chair was still there if he wanted it.
by Brian Mihok
photo: Brian W. Ferry
The academy sent a car for Jesse and Milton when they were twelve. There was no discussion. Boys can’t live alone, the man said and straightened his uniform.
by Ryan MacDonald
Red Bandit Steve Snell
by Hilary Plum
Postcommunique Nicholas Bohac
This is one of a series of short fictions loosely about journalism/journalists/the journalistic.
I traveled all night and it was 4:30 in the morning when I arrived at the hospital. That was fast, Detective Modigliani said, I thought it would be a few more hours.
by Mike Young
When the Sun Hits My Face It Will Be Time To Get Up (detail)
On Thursday, during lunch in the math teacher’s room, Burk showed us the progress of his nub. It was growing on top of his hand.
by M. Charlton
Troposphere (detail) Natalie Abadzis
I came into Bardejov from Bratislava at five in the morning, sat in the bus station until eight- thirty, and walked around the town until I checked into a soiled hotel room at noon.
by Heather Varnadore
Erika (detail) Ellen Rumel
[Excerpt from a novel in progress]
Widget cantered into my house that evening in a swingy, electric blue a-line coat, matching blue tights and white Chelsea boots. There was probably a skirt there if I’d scrutinized.