Archive for October, 2010

Poetry #127

Here we present another diverse group of voices for you to enjoy. Cheers!

The Stain
by Sadie Shorr-Parks

He infested my afternoon
Like maggots to the rot
And stained everything with art.
His eyes leaked into mine.
They’re only oceans
He said, once, while fidgeting
His muscle-entangled arm.

Then he scoured his brain for
A solvent to the abrasive silence
And sputtered  And France,
It’s Beautiful as if the words
Were saturated in ipecac.
A love fermented in the air between
Us, silent as soliel de coucher.

It’s been years, but I still
Remember the hills boiling
off the ground, the wild azaleas, and
Him, a man diseased with goodness,
Earnest as a midnight prayer,
And the alchemy of us
Making something from love’s ash
For as long as we did.

Bio: Sadie Shorr-Parks studied writing at University of Oxford and later at Syracuse University. Her poem will appear in the upcoming issue of Calliope. (more…)

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“Hello, it’s me. I was wondering if you could help me out again. I know we never talk, but I’m in way over my head this time, and if you could just please get me out of this, I’ll do anything you want…”

These are basically the same words, a million junkies, whores, thieves, and residents of the gutter, have muttered to their Gods, when they are deep in the shit, and all hope is lost.  None of them ever keep this promise, when all is said and done. We are all god-less until our moment of need. (more…)

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I. Seeking

            She was the quiet one, the weeping willow who soft-stepped into a room, causing all heads to turn.  I stood beside her, soothed by her geisha-like stance.  I loved her, ignoring her follies, and pretending that she understood my tales.  I believed we both heard the same song, and that song would be our guide. (more…)

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Prose 122

Prose issue 122 brings you characters living at the edge.  Until you see their darkness, you can’t know a person’s soul.  Kaston Griffin, GC vet Hobie Anthony, and Meg Tuite take you inside that darkness.  Hold tight or you might not come back from these journeys the same.


Mr. Burton

Kaston Griffin

Henry Burton chucked the whiskey bottle out the farmhouse door as he came in, aimed loosely for the glass bin, and plodded into the kitchen for another.  Briskly, he patted the cigarette smoke from his jacket, snatched a bottle off the cheap end of the rack, and staggered upstairs to check on the baby, who slept with one eye open.

Kaston writes from Seattle, where he writes interactive stories for adults here.



Hobie Anthony

Will said it would cause brain damage. We inspected the bottle and it was true. (more…)

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Poetry #126

With Poetry #126, we offer a small selection of fine poems. We hope to accentuate the talent here by making this release of Gloom Cupboard concise and focused. Do enjoy!

The War
by Melody Feldman

They say the war is coming
You build a room beneath the stairs
I bathe under iron curtains
In bed we lay wet on the sheets
You cock your pistol
Against my jutted hip
I eat nectarines stolen from the grocery
And suck the juice from the pit
You smoke long cigarettes
Read to me from Hunger
On lined notebook paper you write
The whisper of blood
The pleading of bone marrow

Bio: Melody Feldman received her MFA in Fiction from Fairleigh Dickinson
University where she was the assistant editor of the Literary Review.
Her short story Pie won the 2008 Fulton Prize for  Fiction from The
Adirondack Review.  She has also had work published in 34th Parallel,
Perceptions, and forthcoming in The Story Branch. (more…)

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