fresh off the press.

Always West: Part VII

by Luke Rodehorst | 1

With knobby fingers, he unsnaps the button, reaches inside, and retrieves a pair of binoculars. He slowly raises them to his eyes and spies out the window.

The Olive Tree

by Joel F.S. McMurry | 5

Hassan is late returning from the Mosque tonight, but when he finally walks through the open doorway to my room, he is carrying a large, ornate Qur’an. I put away my Neal Stephenson.

galerie.

About this Galerie

Dennis M. Burke comes into our our newest Galerie artist with tough lines and urban strokes, where, in a flip of roles, the city is secondary to the graffiti-like art.


Other Articles in The Galerie

On Beguiling Prettiness: A Critique

New Galerie: Kristen Flemington

the jungle.

In the Age of Moloch

by Rory Tolan | 4

Yet Roeder’s bullet failed to pierce the sternum in the style of Tiller’s own executions. It merely burst Tiller’s eye on the way to his brain, where it laid waste to the most legally sound mind in the history of serial killers.

An Il-Fated Missive

Greenbacking: An Interview with Cato’s Jerry Taylor

menagerie.

Tossing the Hand-Me-Downs

by Mikayla Lynch | 0

It was described as a nightly ritual in which young club-hoppers slathered on glamor with an unbridled gusto. Heavy gold jewelry would frame a face painted with as much artifice as a contour brush could – or couldn’t – manage.

Painting Us out of a Corner

Hip Replacement

on the chopping block.

Leave a Penny, Take a Penny

by Amanda Hughes | 0

“This isn’t done out of a sense of charity,” Fries insists. “It’s part of my art practice…. How could someone say this isn’t performance art when as soon as a bag comes in I put it away?”

Talk Derby to Me

Heavy-Metal Poisoning

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revue.

Always West: Part VII

by Luke Rodehorst | 1

With knobby fingers, he unsnaps the button, reaches inside, and retrieves a pair of binoculars. He slowly raises them to his eyes and spies out the window.

The Olive Tree

Getting His Roxxxy Off

fiction & poetry.

Keep Me Bright-Smiling

by Sam Chereskin | 1

Don’t worry, Mr. President: You are not America. We cherish you, but we shall remind ourselves of something important. We shall remember – by examining your work and words and examples – that our hopes for our civic lives do not have to involve you. That lie has lasted too many years.

One-Word Title, Like a New York Restaurant

Milagros