Lessons by Sean Kilpatrick

You’re born, someone sticks an unfolded paperclip into the meat of your eye, / you adjust to your condition, your conditions adjust you, you die horribly. / Like stubbing a cigarette out on your cheek when what you need is to be bathed in napalm... Read More

Black Sun Lit Spring 2017 Showcase at Unnameable Books

Saturday, April 29, 2017, 7 PM: Black Sun Lit presents Ali Power, Johannah Rodgers, Chelsea Hogue & Jonathan Larson... Read More

Excerpts from In This Room by Roberta Allen

Lea is his age now, the age he was when he took his own life on this day fifty years ago. As she sits at the white table, drinking coffee, she sees his death in the half-filled cup. His death lives in this room. His death lives in this silence... Read More

Pear of Anguish by Bridget Brewer

Into your body you clambered once more. The old wounds reopened. The old skin stretched tight. You barely fit into this form anymore. You closed your eyes. You held your breath. You counted to ten... Read More

The Teaser of a Full Year of Yesterday’s Life by Douglas Piccinnini

Music. Order. Tenderness. Without brutality yet instructed by an emptying / cause for a word like “love” unrefined / Unrefined, where I too fit approximately so. Who made you simple— / pure as an organ that way / In a crisis, in a vision, in an act of desperation to foment the banal—to say /... Read More

Hi, I’m Carter by Chelsea Hogue

During the day our fathers lived in the woods where there was plenty to eat: grubs, clay-carrying water dripped from oak. Our fathers relaxed in shawls of dead leaves; there was proof in the pine straw, whorled by their bodies. While we slept in our warm beds, they collected leaves from our yards in black... Read More

Brenda by Johannah Rodgers

She stops to consider herself. Nor I. Could she just pretend it wasn’t happening? In Prospect Heights. Troops fighting for their own land. The neighbors. She won’t find the right word. No revelation per se. You can’t eat flowers she’ll say to the troops, when they’re stationed... Read More

Gnome Preorder Pack Now Available

Preorder Robert Lunday’s GNOME from now until February 1 and receive a free copy of VESTIGES with your purchase... Read More

Nature vs. Fertility, God vs. Science by Philippe Sollers, translated from French by Armine Kotin Mortimer

I have no choice but to think that I have been desired by the Dealer in Death, just as the very ugliest of the least of the believers can always tell herself, with satisfaction, that God so wished it. Death, as a result, becomes my natural and social contract, instead of being a tragedy... Read More

WINTERHATE by Greg Mulcahy

Ice cutting as an industry was dead. The ancient sledges had vanished decades ago, and if any draft horses survived, no one saw or heard them. There were other activities, but the general view, after years of accelerating decline, was stated in the last clergyman’s suicide note: Nothing works now... Read More

Metro by Tony Duvert, translated from French by S. C. Delaney and Agnès Potier

You sit down on a bench. It’s not a seat, but rather a sign suggesting a position of rest: half crouched, thigh-bones level, back squared or hunched toward the knees, pelvis crushed between both weights—a scale’s balance beyond all use. Migraine. The head gone, migraine within its space... Read More

Ossuarius by Eva Bujalka

Strange that the air down here should have more the texture of something living it, breathing it. Strange that the air itself should impress upon the living the sensation of breathing in the grave soil, the soil that is so afflicted with several lifetimes’ humors: black bile and phlegm, the cold... Read More