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Time When the Birds Turn Silver

time when the turning birds silver time exploding brined like sweet lemons time wolves bark skunks slip into coops fishing line knots up roads slick proud with ice the boys I fuck all eat candy


Poetry, Fiction, & Nonfiction   

Time When the Birds Turn Silver

time when the turning birds silver time exploding brined like sweet lemons time wolves bark skunks slip into coops fishing line knots up roads slick proud with ice the boys I fuck all eat candy

Two Poems: American Travelogue & Life Drawing

Caroline Crew

You see the flower's form leak into itself. A self. Some things in America still make sense. I open my junk mail, Disney red. Your family. Liquid uttered out into the night freezes your dreams undone. Veracity leaves its whispers. Make an orchestra instead. Every bitten breath

From the Archives

Big Al

Kristin Bonilla

Big Al is in the house and he's drunk. His work boots thud across the worn carpet. "Tanya! Tanya!" He thrashes from room to room, opening doors on no…

Three Fictions

W. Todd Kaneko

It’s late on a Saturday night and Metalhead is at some kid’s basement party. The kid got the new Slayer album that afternoon and has it blaring because his parents are not home. Rockgod holds both hands up in the air like he is prey for bandits, but the rest of his body convulses, his head shaking back and forth, up and down and windmilling along with the drum beat. Metalhead laughs and then there is a body careening into him, pushing him into another kid who is jumping and shimmying against the wall because heavy metal is the stuff that binds kids together, the fray that keeps their blood inside them. When Metalhead’s sister has her friends over, they dance in the living room to Madonna or Culture Club while his father complains that the music is too loud. Metalhead can feel the guitar in his teeth, can feel the speakers’ rumble deep in his chest.

Death of a Dog

Buthaina Al-Nasiri, translated by Gretchen McCullough, reviewed by Mohamed Metwalli

His skin was peeled in so many places, you can’t recognize the color of his hair, but when you view the rest of the tufts on his forehead, one could say it was just normal brown…He was ancient, and had spent his years in one of the alleys: skirmishing with other neighborhood dogs, tricking the butcher in order to snatch a bone from between his legs, and in the short, pleasurable moments, pursuing the traces of females or besieging a cat by a certain wall when…

Low-End Theory

Kendra DeColo

Love, I’m a musky vermouth, palm of discount / stars, instruction manual for low-end vibrators / which is to say, my frequencies have slowed / down to the flutter of a junebug’s libido

From the Blog

Gulf Coast at #AWP16: Dance Yr Ass Off (Contest), Raffles, Gulf Coast 28.2 & More

This week, Gulf Coast is headed to the land of the stars--literary stars, that is! Wednesday, March 30th through Saturday, April 2nd, Gulf Coast will be…

An Entirely New Milieu: Rethinking the MFA Story

UPDATE: This piece has been edited since its original posting date. I’ve noticed a trend. It might be chalked up to coincidence, but I’m not convinced.…