The cult section of the literary world
In this intimate collection of poetry, spells are cast, hearts are broken, and prayers go unanswered. Sad Sexy Catholic follows the journey of a young twenty-something as she navigates the already difficult task of existing made even harder by trauma, body dysmorphia, a personality disorder, and leftover guilt from a […]
February just got a little hotter under the shell! Hunter returns to the LUST series after ruffling our feathers with all of them chickens. Now the CRABS are pinching. These hard-shell anti-poetry romps flip the sandcastles upside down and take you not just to the beach, but into the mind […]
A complex and entangled text that explores inherited trauma, the presence of ghosts, interspecies communication, the dream world, grief, and human/animal separation. Weaving wisdom from her shamanic practice and the interstices of language and in the difficult moments anticipating the deaths of her beloved dog companions, Separation Anxiety marks the first collection […]
From CLASH Books, Adrian Ernesto Cepeda’s celebrated poetry collection We Are the Ones Possessed is out now. Listed at #1 on Lit Reactor’s 10 Dark Recommendations for National Poetry Month 2022. “The “little death” of orgasm isn’t so small after all in Adrian Ernesto Cepeda’s We Are the Ones Possessed. […]
SHOULD YOUR CARCASS REANIMATE, I’LL SLIT ITS THROAT AGAIN. Lost Letters to a Lover’s Carcass is an infected wound where puss seeps out between sutures. As a “spiritual sequel” to Cries to Kill the Corpse Flower, this collection is partly blind pining for dead, false love once given by a monster that […]
Poetry has long been the language of rage. The disquiet ghosts of our own discomfort and paralyzing fear rising up in sometimes-broken verse to express itself in bellowed whispers. Splatterpunk nominee Susan Snyder’s debut chapbook of poetry ‘Broken Nails’ is no exception to this, each poem overflowing with the emotional […]
by: Chris Meekings It is barely coin o’clock in the morning, and the bourbon has only just taken the taste of Pepsodent from my mouth when she walks into my office. She’s glass and alabaster, with curves in all the right places, liquorice nice. She walks across the room, her […]
by Márió Z. Nemes. Translated by Zoltán Komor Red Water In the village of the dwarfs everyone’s about four inches long. They shoot the ones who grow taller, keeping a gun around just for this purpose. The dwarfs call it Mother’s anger, but they also like to use the saw. […]
