Gulf Coast Online Exclusives

Two Poems

Michael Wasson

'éetu: so be it, he says— & I ignite a flame striking a wooden match along the torso of my god: a face mirroring a boy afraid of only him- self: a shadow spills behind us

Poetry, Fiction, & Nonfiction   

The Void Wife

Kate Folk

One thing was for sure: Elise couldn't be Robert's void wife. On the day the void was scheduled to hit San Francisco, she hid from him in the ruin of the Sutro Baths. She gazed out at the Pacific while behind her, the void consumed Oakland. The void had appeared six months ago in a slender belt around the globe near the 90th meridian, slicing through Detroit and New Orleans, Bangkok and the Kirov Islands of Russia. Since then it had expanded in both directions on both sides of the planet at the rate of seventy miles a day, like two immense pairs of lids drawing over the eye of the earth.

The Horoscope Writer

Scott Garson

The horoscope writer kills herself on a Tuesday. It is, by coincidence, the day the weekly paper comes out. Townspeople read her column and find it mundane but also uncanny. Here, some of them feel, are words from beyond the veil.

From the Archives

Her Young Death/Loose/In You

Eva Mary Hooker

Mutability is within the soul itself. It listens its way in / With eager mouth. God was never so economical. / Death inscribes its signature without blot...

Paddling in the Bloody Moat

Helen McClory

A flood takes no notice of the borders we construct between inside and out. Like Cassandra sitting in the kitchen sink at her window, the Willoweed family and servant Old Ives can do nothing but observe.

Drunk Bitch Dreams of a Luminous Stream

Stevie Edwards

Drunk Bitch dreams of a luminous stream / & pisses herself. Drunk Bitch drops her drink in the lap / of a slightly less drunk body & is sure she's found love / in his smiling shrug

Medal of Honor

Nghiem Tran

I asked Grandpa how he got the silver medal he’s so proud of, and he said he got it for shooting a Northern Viet bastard right in the face. He said the…

From the Blog

Dissimilar Multitudes

Co-Written with Karla Kelsey Grubby violet dusk.  Everywhere, the tongue-tang of rust…. In a recent collection, Night Vision, Claire Wahmanholm presents…

Re: Verse: On Anonymity and the Future of Collaborative Poetry

Co-Written with Chris Campanioni   Long before the Internet was re-routed from military servers and mainstreamed, Foucault understood the efficacy of…