Read Ryan Bradford’s “Post Apocalypse” here, and then follow it with this interview. Or do it the other way around. You’re an individual, make your own decisions.

1. How would you end the world?

I’d shut down the internet. It just seems so anti-climatic compared to all the end-of-the-world-porn imagined in movies, but also completely realistic. I like the idea that the end of the world could be a gradual thing instead of an instantaneous flash or something, like you wouldn’t even notice it if you weren’t paying attention. A quiet apocalypse. And of course, there would be that small group who still don’t engage with or utilize computers. These luddites would be the new Lord Humunguses (Humungi?), as their lack of devastation would certainly give them some advantage.

2. What would you replace the bald eagle with as our national mascot?

A great white shark. If I had to rebuild the US from apocalyptic devastation, I don’t think there’d be any better symbol of evolutionary perseverance than that. Or cockroaches, but I think those are really hard to stylize in a heroic fashion.

3. How have you survived a personal catastrophe?

I think catastrophe is cumulative in a person’s life. I’ve never experienced one of those game-changing moments that give rise to superheroes, but I don’t think that should discredit or usurp the intimate sadness that I have, and everyone has, experienced.

My parents divorced when I was a kid, and I think that whole dissolution of Family affected me more than I’ve let on. It wasn’t until I got married last year that I realized I’ve been living the past 15 years as this emotionally self-sufficient nomad. My wife is the first person that I’ve been able to really trust and give up part of myself. I think being able give in to that emotional co-dependency after shutting it off for so long is some sort of survival. Continue reading →

Blaze Dzikowski wrote “Corporate Birthday” and we published it in April.

1. What faces do you see on trains?

It was a tram actually, a streetcar. Most faces are turned off, as their owners are somewhere else. Seeing eyes belong to thieves, perverts, children and people detoured from everyday track by a transgressive experience, like I was at that point.

2. What is the most inappropriate birthday gift you’ve given someone?

I sat on my nephew on his 2nd birthday. It was comfy and soft. I stood up to check the odd pillow. He gave me a strange, silent stare.

3. Which stock character would you be in an action thriller?

The pain-in-the-ass police chief with a lollipop. “You must be proud of yourself, Kowalski…” Continue reading →

We published these Two Poems by Kelley Bright Leidenthal in April and then asked her these questions.

1. When have you pretended to be in hate?

I very rarely pretend to hate. It’s not nearly as fun as pretending to be in love. I do very often pretend to be in mortal danger, which may be as close to pretend hate as I get. I sometimes imagine my death or very near death, which is morbid. I like to envision my death by boating accidents and gunshot wounds, which are the most unlikely ways for me to die. I admit that I have imagined throwing my drink on someone who has wronged me, but it always certainly pretend. In my real life, I am a chicken. My pretend life is much more interesting.

2. What are your bowling scores sober and drunk?

I am an excellent drunk bowler. My drunken throws are far superior to a highly focused sober throw. I am my own greatest critic. I think sometimes I just need to relax and let the ball fall where it will. I once drunkenly bowled 5 strikes in a row on a first date. I spanked him so good he did not request a second date. I insist I mean purely bowling.

3. How has being a Juvenile Service Officer impacted your writing?

I love my job. I get to work with a lot of youth who need direction and positive role models in their lives. They inspire me to channel my feelings into art. So many of my kids write, rap, sing or draw as a primary form of expression. The way they have been dealing with their emotions- drugs, sex, alcohol- have landed them in my detention facility. Away from the home environment, they are forced to face those feelings or experiences in some other way. One of my favorite things in the world is when a kid brings me a poem and asks me what I think. They are always so beautiful regardless of what my degrees tells me. That’s poetry. Continue reading →

Richard Bentley and his Three Poems, from the April Issue.

1. “Bears In The Street” has this epic collapse in the last stanza, compared to how the other stanzas are constructed. What was your intent behind that?

A crash. Possibly followed by a recession (perhaps in another poem)

2. What do you love hearing from readers? Why not post your real phone number instead?

I love hearing ANYTHING. 413-256-0240

3. How would you prefer to be stalked?

Not funny Continue reading →

“Terminal Boredom,” from Zachary Buscher, was in the April Issue.

1. What ribbon do you always earn?

The kind that makes my pigtails look hot.

2. What makes a man a man?

All I know is that a man cannot be a muppet but one can be a muppet of a man or a very manly muppet.

3. Why isn’t there always sexual mischief?

SIRI says I should try a web search for that. Continue reading →

The amazing and well-worth-your-time to read, “Interiors,” was published in the April Issue.

1. What are you willing to destroy for love?

My definitions of love have completely been wrung out, stretched, flung out into space and back in recent years so that when I think of what I’d destroy for love, I immediately think of the love I’ve experienced since having my daughter. That said, this question is weirdly simple: I’d destroy fucking anything that came between me and my daughter and the love that resides between us–taking into account that there are any number of ways to interpret “destroy.”

2. How much of you is in your fiction?

My most recent fiction features a precocious, thoughtful young girl abducted and entrenched in an underground child porn network (“Black Car Land” in Specter Magazine) and a woman self-sequestered in a sham marriage and a house in the forest who is part of an underground organization plotting an unidentified but massive monkeywrench of the powers that be. I would say a part of me (sliver, splice, or tiny point of light) is always present in my fiction.

3. What is your preferred sex soundtrack?

M.I.A.’s entire discography. Continue reading →

Glen Pourciau’s “Inside,” from the April, Issue can be found here.

1. Are you sorry for Huey Lewis and The News?

I admire their music. I feel sorry when I hear the news, but I do not feel sorry when I listen to Huey Lewis and News.

2. Why did you choose not to reveal the diagnosis in “Inside”?

I don’t think the exact diagnosis is relevant to the story. In my opinion extraneous detail diminishes impact. An analogy that comes to mind is the paintings of Edward Hopper. Though his paintings are vivid they show only as much detail as needed.

3. What would be your song that indicates you’ve got bad news to give to someone?

Pass

4. Why must literary fiction be sad?

Must it? Is Pride and Prejudice sad?

5. What is your favorite illness related movie?

A Brief Vacation and Away From Her come to mind.

6. What would you like to cure?

The damage that people do to themselves.

In March there was “Say Spilt Milk” by Leah Nielsen.

1. Is there an open Krispy Kreme in Massachusetts?

The only one I saw there was closed. I think there used to be one in Springfield, but it closed. Sigh. Dunkin’ Donuts rules here. Their slogan: American runs on Dunkin’. That always makes me want to respond, “No, New England runs on Dunkin’. The South runs on Krispy Kreme and BBQ.” It’s worth noting the Krispy Kreme in the poem was destroyed in last year’s tornado. I feel like I need a “wholenother” poem now.

2. Have you ever tried saying the alphabet backwards? What was the result?

My brain is not that talented. Too many pain medications.

3. Is “Say Spilt Milk” a prose poem or flash fiction? How do you know what shape a piece will take?

I think of it as a prose poem, but I suppose that’s because I think of myself only as a poet, which seems ridiculous now that I type it down. I tend to be a formalist, so I pick the form first and fit the content into it. If blank verse or a sonnet doesn’t seem right, then a prose poem or a chart becomes the default. Continue reading →