It had been three weeks since Benji visited Glitter Gulch and he still could not scrub Naranja from his soul.
ABOUT THE ARTIST
Berthed from mischievous leprechauns near technicolor shadow lands surrounding Honah Lee, Theodore Wallbanger rides mysterious sparkle railcars bursting with crunchy cotton candy clouds dispatched from slippery erotic massage vixens who rage pillow laugh hourly within a splintered transportation module that screams along butterscotch wonder tracks forming vibrations for audiences across Sugar Hill Mountain.
Artwork by Wallbanger
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No. 88
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POETRY SOCIETY TO HEAR SHORT POEMS READ
‘Any visiting writer may take part in the program,’ announced the Society’s pamphlet.
Critique by Bill Tope
Robert booted up his laptop and immediately navigated to Babies, Orphans and Puppies (BOP), his…
The Erotic Positions of Chewbacca & C-3PO and 2 additional chalks by Theodore Wallbanger
The first rule of Chalk Club is you don’t chalk about Chalk Club.
Two Covers, One Net: Playing Through Damon Hubbs’ ‘Nighttime Logic’ by Iryna Somkina
I hated every single word I spoke,
offering mattresses wearing a plastic headset
Afternoon Plans and 1 more by Brad Rose
This week, I’m building my vocabulary.
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