Gulf Coast Online Exclusives


True Romance

Cody Ernst

Is it really warranted, for you to bring a gun to New York, city of high achievement? Thoughtless we both stood, me, trying to talk you down from taking an overdose of cerulean powder, you, intent on ingesting a headlamp so you could witness the inner beatings of your gut.


Poetry, Fiction, & Nonfiction   

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…

From the Archives

If I Were the Moon, I Know Where I Would Fall Down

Melissa Barrett

In the caked oak tracts of the thumbed / dim chalkboard, behind the easel tipping paler / continents further / north, toward the gloss of April...

Relations

Mitra Vahdati

Chaie mikhai?                                                                                         Yes please. Merci amoo.He carries a small tea glass…

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…

Mesas and Particles

Joni Wallace

Some nights inside the caterwaul of coyotes / the telephone rings, very late or very early. / Then my father walks out into darkness. / My mother still sleeping / and I am.

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.…