Independent Fiction Directory

Editor’s note: A author/publisher will be included if: 1. The literary work of the organization or individual is independent (ie. not affiliated/supported by a major institution, such as a university, corporation, government, etc), and, 2. They principally write/publish original narrative fiction (as opposed to poetry or fan-fiction). Links to every listed individual or organization’s social media and website(s) will be included (provided the listed individual or organization) and will be continuously update with future installments. Outlets dedicated to literary promotion will not be included.

 

All inquiries concerning the directory may be made through: logosliterature@yandex.com.

 

Feedback is always welcome.


Fiction Authors

Alina Hansen (poet, developing first novel) [website]

Avani Singh (horror writer; author of Existence, admin of blogggedit) [@blogggedit]

Benjamin Langley (horror novelist) [@B_J_Langely]

Brandon Scott (horror and thriller writer) [@BrandonScottAu1]

Brianna M. Fenty (horror writer) [@fentyscribbles]

Chloe Turner (author of Witches Sail In Eggshells) [@TurnerPen2Paper]

Dan Klefstad (gothique novelist, author of the Fiona series & the novel Shepard & the Professor) [@danklefstad]

Daniel Soule (writer, anthologist and editor) [@Grammatologer]

David A. Estringel (poet and short story author) [@The_Booky_Man ]

Ellis Michaels (scifi and fantasy author) [@EllisMichaels9]

Garth T. Ogle (author of The Bowl of Tears and Solace) [@gtaogle]

Giovanni Dannato (author of Apostasy & The Warlord) [@GiovanniDannato]

Glahn (surrealist short-story writer) [@sexypesty]

Iain Kelly (literary short story author and novelist) [@ianthekid]

Jane Dougherty (fantasy novelist) [@MJDougherty33]

Jess Gabnall (dark fantasy and horror author) [@Jess93Bagnall]

Jess Lake (scifi and romance writer) [twitter: @JessLakeAuthor]

Joanna Koch (literary short story writer) [@horrorsong]

J. Brandon Lowery (flash fiction writer of the fantastical) [@jbrandonlowry]

Kara Klotz (writer and founder of Channillo) [@KKlotzz]

Karl Wenclas (author of The Tower, writer at New Pop Lit) [@KingWenclas]

Madison Estes (short story author) [@madisonestes]

Michael Carter [@mcmichaelcarter]

N. O. Ramos (horror novelist) [@N_O_Ramos]

Peter Clarke (satirist, author of The Singularity Survival Guide) [@HeyPeterClarke]

Peter Edwards (aka, The Little Fears, microfiction author) [@TheLittleFears]

Ramya Tantry [@RamyaTantry]

Simon Webster (novelist and chief of The Cabinet of Heed) [@MrSimonWebster]

Stacie Sultrie (romance writer) [@SSultrie]

Steve Hart (latter-day Jack London, author of the serialized novel, The Promise of Shaconage) [@BlueSmokies]

The Dark Netizen (flash fiction author) [website]

Tweet Sized Fiction (microfiction and poetry) [@teenytinystorys]

Wicked Fables (macabre fantasy and scifi writer) [@WickedFables]

Zach Mulcahy (fantasy author, developing novel) [@ZTMbaronofurga]


Literary Publishers

101 Words (flash) [@101words]

Alien Buddha Press [@thealienbuddha]

Analog Submission Press [@analogsubpress]

Aphotic Realm (horror+surrealism) [@AphoticRealm]

Apiary Magazine [@APIARYmag]

Cajun Mutt Press [@MuttCajun]

Channillo [@_Channillo]

Crystal Lake Publishing [@crystallakepub]

Dark Dossier Magazine (monthly horror magazine) [@DarkDossier]

Defiant Scribe [@Defiant_Scribe]

Dim Shores [@dimshores]

Drunken Pen Writing [@drunkpenwriting]

Ellipsis Zine [@EllipsisZine]

Fictive Dream (flash) [@FictiveDream]

Fishbowlpress (fiction and poetry) [@fishbowlpress]

FlashBack Fiction (historical fiction) [@FlashBackFic]

Flash Fiction Magazine [@flashficmag]‏

Flat Field Press [@FlatFieldPress]

Forge Litmag [@forge_litmag]

Formercactus [@formercactus]

Gold Wake Press [@GoldWakePress]

gn0me (experimental fiction) [@gnOmebooks]

Gone Lawn [@gonelawn]

Gray Matter Press [@GreyMatterPress]

Hagstone Publishing (fiction + crafts) [@HagstonePub]‏

Horror Sleaze Trash [@horrorslzztrash]

Idle Ink [@_IdleInk_]

Jokes Review (satire and absurdism) [@JokesReview]

Literally Stories (fantasy & horror) [@LiterallyStory]

Lunarian Press [@LunarianPress]‏

(mac)ro(mic) [@mac_ro_mic]

Midnight Mosaic Fiction [@MidMosFic]

Milk Candy Review [@moonrabbitcandy]

Monkey Bicycle [@monkeybicycle]

Nightingale & Sparrow (literary magazine) [@nightandsparrow]

Night Worms (horror) [@Night_Worms]

New Pop Lit (3D, pulp, neo-noir, realism) [@NewPopLit]

OddMadLand (experimental surrealism) [× discontinued ×]

Okay Donkey [@okaydonkeymag]

Orchid’s Lantern [@orchidslantern]

Reflex Press [@reflexfiction]

Rust Belt Press [@BeltPress]

Sinister Grin Press [@SinisterGrinPre]

Spelk [@SpelkFiction]

Story Shack [@thestoryshack]‏

Surfaces [@SURFACEScx]

Terror House Magazine [@terrorhousemag]

The Arcanist  (fantasy) [@The_Arcanists]

The Blue Nib (fiction and poetry) [@TheBlueNib]

The Cabinet of Heed (literary anthologies) [@CabinetOfHeed ]

The Copybook (dormant) [@CopybookThe]

The Dark Calls (temporarily closed) [@The_Dark_Calls]‏

The Fiction Pool (realism) [@TheFictionPool]

The Molotov Cocktail [@MolotovLitZine]

The Stray Branch (gothique fiction + poetry) [@debbiedberk]

Unnerving Magazine [@UnnervingMag]

X-R-A-Y (literary fiction, often experimental) [@xraylitmag@xraylitmag]


If you wish to support our work you can do so here. If you wish to contact the site administrator, you can find him online here.

Fiction Circular 6/27/19

THE LOGOS FICTION CIRCULAR is a weekly series which collects independent fiction from around the web. We are consistently on the look-out for new authors and publishers—recommendations are always welcome.


§00. Editor’s note: links affixed to author/publisher’s name will redirect to author/publisher social media, links affixed to story/article titles will redirect to the site whereupon the named piece is archived. The ‘authors’ section focuses on individuals who author and publish their own literary work, the ‘organizations’ section focuses upon independent presses, lit-mags, e-zines and other literary organizations who publish fictive work of multiple authors and ‘literary ephemera’ focuses on non-prose non-fiction literature, such as certain poems, news and art theory articles, reviews, interviews and critiques. All author/publication names arranged by alphabetical order (including ‘the’ and ‘a’).


§01. Editor’s note on criteria for inclusion: a publication is considered ‘independent’ if it is self-contained and sustaining, that is to say, if it does not rely upon the staff, organizational prowess or financial backing of large corporations, academies, governments or other large entrenched organizations. For example, Sink Hollow Litmag will not be included on the list, not due to the quality or lack thereof of their work, but rather, because they are supported by Utah State University (and thus, are not independent). All works which are included are those which were read by the editor during the week of publication; their inclusion does not mean that they were published the same week as the circular containing them.


AUTHORS

From Ian Kelly, Box Office.

Sex scandal followed drug rehab, relationship turmoil ran concurrent to family fall-outs.

All of it was box office. (I. Kelly, Box Office)


From Ramya Tantry, Human Trial.

“Subject 23 is not responding. Should we call it?”,the resident asked.
“Yes. Clear it and bring in Subject 24.”, the doctor replied.
“Doctor, Why are we killing humans?”
“We are not killing.Everything is trial and error until we find a perfect match.We are creating Super-humans.” (R. Tantry, Human Trial)


From Shreya Vikram, Like Dying, Yes.

There is no death without the dying, and yet there can be no comparison between a corpse and its body. (Vikram, Like Dying, Yes)


From Steve Hart, Promise of Shaconage—Act 85: The world changed (serialized novel).

This night was still and muggy. The river flowed slowly from the lack of rain. Everything seemed hot, even the cool grass and bed of ferns upon which he rested. (S. Hart, Promise of Shaconage)


From The Dark Netizen, The Misty Stone. The story of a jungle expedition gone awry. Reminiscent of H. Rider Haggard.

“Boss, why are we rushing it so much? Why not wait until this deathly fog reduces? We have lost half our men trying to navigate the perils of this jungle in such poor visibility. All this just for a stone?” (TDN, The Misty Stone)


From Thoughts of Steel, “Nomad” (our ending was your beginning).

It’s been so long since our brief eternity passed from wonderland. (Thoughts of Steel, Nomad)


ORGANIZATIONS

From our own site, the poem The Lord of Want and the short fictions, Lanterns In The Night, The Fissure, &, Strawberry Moon by K.E.—as well as Roadkill, a short story by D. A. Estringel.

For a moment there was nothing in all the world but those eyes. The fleeing shadows unmasking a face, bloodless as the white-bone of the moon which loomed above them like the half-formed relic-egg of some unimaginable beast, aborted-fetal in the endless gyre of its galaxial womb. (K E, Lanterns In The Night)


From Examining The Odd, a republication of American writer, Clark Ashton Smith’s short story, The Forbidden Forest (1943), and Dunce by Mike Russell.

‘What’s underneath the plaster, mister? Show us!’

They swear he has a third eye under there. (M. Russell, Dunce)


From Fictive Dream, The Storm by Suzannah V. Evans. The story a town which undergoes a strange, amphibious transformation.

 When she undressed, it seemed to him that her skin was water. (S. V. Evans, The Storm)


From Gone Lawn, Home by Cecile Barlier.

Above the seat next to Jacqui, the head of my brother Guil surfaced like a puppet. (C. Barlier, Home)


From Jellyfish Review, A Great Fall by Mark L. Keats. Appears to be some of kind of political metaphor.

When it was reported on later, no one questioned how it had gotten up there, on the wall. There were no ladders or even built-in footholds. No trees to climb. Only an immense sense of presence. (Keats, A Great Fall)


From Jokes Review, Memo From Senior Management by Josh Trapani.

Hey, Team! Wasn’t last week’s mandatory active shooter awareness training a blast? Those instructors did a bang-up job. We were blown away! So glad we bit the bullet and shelled out for it. (J. Trapani, Memo From Senior Management)


From Literally Stories, Evil Is Afoot by Frederick K. Foote. A macabre tale of betrayal and retribution. That which is evil is not necessarily that which appears so.

“The night creature finds me sitting, waiting on the doorstep of the inn. It comes not as a raging monster, but as a handsome young gentleman dressed in quality and taste. I’m thankful for that consideration.” (F.K.F., Evil Is Afoot)


From Lost Balloon, Terrarium by Amanda Hays.

He never watches reality television, says it makes him feel weird to spy on all those other humans. He stares at the lizard. (A. Hays, Terrarium)


From Molotov Cocktail, Slip The Collar by Kelsey Ipsen.

The physiotherapist is pulling and tugging at me. We hear a crack in my shoulder and see that a bone has popped out of my skin. We both stare, the bone is shiny-white and oddly sharp.

“It will get worse before it gets better,” the physiotherapist reminds me, and I nod before arranging my next appointment. On my way home, I purchase a lightweight and oversized jacket to cover up my protrusion. I don’t want to offend anyone. (K. Ipsen, Slip The Collar)


From Musepaper, President Marilyn Monroe Devours Her Young by Joanna Koch.

I’m going to disappoint you. But you know that already. If I don’t, you’ll keep me around and alive. And where will that leave us? Like an old married couple. (J. Koch, President Marilyn Monroe Devours Her Young)


From Okay Donkey, Ganymede by Chelsea Harris.

The owners before us were in their seventies, stabbed in the heart and the neck by a couple high on junk, looking for money. (C. Harris, Ganymede)


From Poetry Under Cover, Traitor by Indira Reddy.

i sigh,
my traitor body,
slipping towards

evolutionary dead-end,
evokes moments
where we touched
the soul (I. Reddy, Traitor)


From Reflex Fiction, Arigatou by Max Riddington. A somber meditation on fading memory.

My dad is speaking Japanese. With a Leicester accent. He is not Japanese but was in Hiroshima during the war, after the bomb dropped, so he picked up a few phrases, none my mum ever wanted to hear. Back then he was eighteen and had hair. Small compensation for knowing every day you might die. (Riddington, Arigatou)

From Short Fiction Break, Forked Tongue by Jess Bagnall.

I try moving to shift the feeling; only to find my body frozen in place. (J. Bagnall, Forked Tongue)


From Spelk, I Love Our Voices When We Sing Off-Key by Timothy Boudreau.

I tell you we have our own light, our own suffusion (T. Boudreau, I Love Our Voices When We Sing Off-Key)


From Splonk, Drowning A Mermaid by Gerard McKeown.

I asked where all the water went.

‘All around the world,’ you said, then dived in yourself. (G. McKeown, Drowning A Mermaid)


From The Arcanist, What Do You See When You’re Both Asleep? by Christi Nogle.

It was strange at first, like seeing colors you haven’t seen before.

You’re supposed to train for several months before it’s safe to use full-time. (C. Nogle, What Do You See When You’re Both Asleep?)


From The Drabble, Riding Motorcycles by Dianne Moritz.

Driving down Flying Point

Road today, I thought

of you and me winding

up Mount Tamalpais,

dust coating our happy lips. (D. Moritz, Riding Motorcycles)


From The Fiction Pool, The Carriage by Adam Kieffer.

My forehead yawns above my eyebrows to the brown grey tufty triangle formerly known as my hairline. I can live with the grey hairs (in fact I think they are quite distinguished for a man of my position) but the thinning & the receding? (A. Kieffer, The Carriage)


From X-R-A-Y, The Call Was Coming From Inside The Cockroach by Maggie Dove (RomComDojo), a charming tale about the peculiarities of regional pride in America.

I found out that day that the real, scientific term for the legendary New York cockroach is the “American Cockroach”.

They were the same goddamned bug.

And New Yorkers still said theirs were superior. (Dove, The Call Was Coming From Inside The Cockroach)


LITERARY EPHEMERA

From Drunken Pen, Facing Rejection & Fighting Imposter Syndrome.


From the Guildy Pleasures podcast (S01 E05, 01-28-2018), Dan Klefstad reads a excerpt, entitled, Hauptsturmführer Soren, from his novel-in-progress, The Guardian.

He’s also come up with a Hollywood pitch-line.


From JPC Allen, Writing Tip—Benefits of Screenwriting.


From HorrorMadam, a interview with horror author, Nick Stead.


From New Pop Lit, The Literary Brat Pack, on the authorial trio of Bret Easton Ellis, Jay McInerney and Tama Janowitz.


From Rebecca Gransden, news on the release of her new novella, Sea of Glass.


From Silent Motorist Media, a interview with author, S. L. Edwards.


 

Fiction Circular 6/20/19

The LOGOS FICTION CIRCULAR is a weekly series which collects independent fiction from around the web.


§00. Editor’s note: links affixed to author/publisher’s name will redirect to author/publisher social media, links affixed to story/article titles will redirect to the site whereupon the named piece is archived. The ‘authors’ section focuses on lone individuals who publish their own literary work, the ‘organizations’ section focuses upon independent presses, lit-mags, e-zines and other literary organizations who publish fictive work of multiple authors and ‘literary ephemera’ focuses on non-prose non-fiction literature, such as certain poems, news and art theory articles, reviews, interviews and critiques. All author/publication names arranged by alphabetical order (including ‘the’).


§01. Editor’s note on criteria for inclusion: a publication is considered ‘independent’ if it is self-contained and sustaining, that is to say, if it does not rely upon the staff, organizational prowess or financial backing of large corporations, academies, governments or other large entrenched organizations. For example, Sink Hollow Litmag will not be included on the list, not due to the quality or lack thereof of their work, but rather, because they are supported by Utah State University (and thus, are not independent). All works which are included are those which were read by the editor during the week of publication; their inclusion does not mean that they were published the same week as the circular containing them.


AUTHORS

From Avani Singh, The Abandoned House: 5, a short about haunted TVs.

All the television screens in America shut down. There was a murmuring on the TV that some believe was the devil’s voice. (Singh, The Abandoned House: 5)


From The Dark Netizen, a brief sketch, Target Practice.

Control your breathing and calm your nerves, lads, just like we practiced.

Hold the bow firmly and keep your aim steady, and release when you feel you are ready to hit the target.

Don’t let those eyes begging you to miss, distract you from your goal of executing traitors, and put an arrow right between those eyes… (The Dark Netizen, Target Practice)


From Wicked Fables (author of the excellent scifi short, Immortalitus) Servant. On social media the author provided some background to the piece, “A shortstory I wrote a long time ago, but freshly edited. Maybe it’s good, maybe I’m just sentimental about it.”

I’ve found it extremely useful to, from time to time (every year or two) go back over old, unpublished material and see how it holds up. I’d recommend the practice, you might be surprised how good some it is (and how much better it can be made with a little contemporary editing).

“The base of the hill reached, greedy hands found unearthly metals. Careful fingers worked the more useful pieces off the beasts. Of the varied dead, stunted lizards[-]like creatures were equipped with the more interesting bits. Having seen such a variety of monsters over the past decade Dal no longer attempted to classify them.” (WF, Servant)


ORGANIZATIONS

From Literally Stories, Awaken the Forest of the Gods of Torn Jaws by Daniel Newcomer, a surreal tale of one man’s journey into a cursed forest. Newcomer has a instantly recognizable style and its put to effective use in the creation of an atmosphere of miasmic dread, though the story seems somewhat underdeveloped and leaves one with far more questions than answers—perhaps that was his intention. If his goal was to keep the reader from determining what was, and was not, real, he surely succeeded.

You’re still driving to the sun but, as any journeyman does, you wonder if the sun has fallen down. Maybe that’s it. The sun has fallen and won’t be getting up anytime soon. (Daniel, Newcomer, Awaken the Forest of the Gods of Torn Jaws)


From Milk Candy Review, I-65 by J. Bradley.

Can we get a gas tanker truck or something to hold her, Mitch asks.

Mom might eat through the metal, I say.

We could use the body we built for her.

(J. Bradley, I-65)


From Okay Donkey, The Flat by Michael Alessi. The tale has a intriguing opening hook, though, if its a metaphor, its a rather opaque one (creeping decrepitude of aging? —man’s reach exceeds his grasp… man’s grasp exceeds his nerve?).

I’m changing a tire with my father when his hands fall off. (Alessi, The Flat)


From Reflex Fiction, Wind Turbine Army by Mark Newman.

There is an army of wind turbines approaching, her father says, and she finds herself mesmerised by their beauty. (Newman, Wind Turbine Army)


From Spelk, The One True Thing, Andrea Marcusa. A Gatsbyesque tale of wild romance in the big city. Vivacious prose.

At 42nd Street, we saluted the noble, stone lions that flanked the stairs of the New York Public Library. (Marcusa, The One True Thing)


From The Fiction Pool, Boxing Photographer by George Aitch.

 Combat is all or nothing and so is he. (Aitch, Boxing Photographer)


LITERARY EPHEMERA

From Alina Hansen, Golden Eyes (a poem).

golden eyes glower,

dreaming of darkened nights

during day time. A heartache turned

sour, inspiring visions of violence,

and a disastrous summer.

(Hansen, Golden Eyes)


From, Always Trust In Booksa review of the scifi thriller, Double Edged (Bulari Saga Book I) by Jessie Kuwak.

The Bulari Saga series is part of Jessie Kwak’s Durga System universe, a fast-paced series of gangster sci-fi stories set in a far-future world where humans may have left their home planet to populate the stars, but they haven’t managed to leave behind their vices. (Always Trust In Books, Review of Double Edged)


From Break The Code, Hyperstitional Daemonism: Reality as a Fictional Daemon, by Assem A. Hendawi, a short commentary on fiction as an egregore-generation mechanism.

That which is not real can have real effects and be felt as real, concomitant with the degree to which it is believed to be real or real-acting by those apprehending.

Whitley Strieber in his series of works on Alien Abduction would state in an interview:

What have I done? Have I conjured something, in effect by occult means, by writing these books or…? I mean sometimes I have the feeling they’re like breaking through—that I’ve opened a door that is supposed to remain closed, that they’re just sort of coming through it like a bunch of, you know, like they’re hungry little monsters…2

Strieber believed “by writing about these experiences, he was unleashing a terrifying reality into the world, and into his own life.” (Horsley) One could find hundreds of examples in literature and other pop-cultural or Western Occulture of such hyperstitional infestations. (Hendawi, Hyperstitional Daemonism)


From Deseret News, a review of Orson Scott Card’s newest novel The Hive (co-written with Aaron Johnston).

Readers can expect the same level of writing quality from the preceding four prequel novels, all of which were co-authored by Card and Aaron Johnston. The sci-fi concepts, plot and character motivations are carefully thought out, and as always the characters are well-developed with an intriguing variety of perspectives, although at times there is far more expository dialogue than there needs to be and the story bogs down in the middle as a result. (Heidi Burton, Review of The Hive)


From Drunken Pen, DPW Podcast Episode #24: Sci-Fi Madness, on the different types of science fiction writing and numerous other topics, in which they ask the pertinent question, “Why is everybody [in scifi] a bipedal humanoid?”

“I don’t know man, maybe I just been thinking about giving up on writing and finding a new career—like, an easier one… maybe we should just become rappers, don’t need much writing talent for that.” (from: Episode #24 of the DPW Podcast)


From JPC Allen, Writing Tip—Casting Against Type. Food for authorial thought.

In this movie from 1951, two strangers meet on a train. One is a well-known tennis player, Guy Haines . The other is a rich man’s grown son, Bruno Anthony. Haines’s troubled marriage is well publicized, and Anthony suggests they swap murders — he’ll do in Haines’s wife if Haines will kill his father. Haines’s gets away from the weirdo but humoring him and saying he agrees with the idea. Anthony takes him seriously and kills his wife. Now he expects Haines to uphold his end of the deal.

What made Bruno Anthony one of classic movie’s great villains was that he was played by an actor known for his cute, boy-next-door roles. To cast such an actor as a spoiled brat psycho was unusual at the time, but actor Robert Walker was up to the task. His Bruno glides into a room and charms everyone he meets. But when someone thwarts his plans, he’s like a child having a temper tantrum. Only this child has no problem committing murder. (Allen, Casting Against Type)


From New Pop Lit, The Decline of Literary Criticism, a incisive piece that examines (what the author perceives as) the decline of the American literary all-star.

In 1950 NFL football was scarcely a blip on the cultural radar screen. It produced zero (0) figures as recognizable and renowned as Ernest Hemingway.

Today the situation is reversed. (NPL, The Decline of Literary Criticism)


From Newsarama, The Full First Issue of John Carpenter’s TALES OF SCIENCE FICTION – THE STANDOFF (a comics anthology). Looks promising.

“The movie that changed my life was ‘It Came From Outer Space’ […] 3D—glasses on—this meteor comes screaming out of the night sky and blows up in my four year old face, and I felt something, and I got up and I was shrieking in terror. But I’ve gotta tell you a couple of seconds later it was the greatest because I felt such a high. I survived the meteor hitting me right in the face—it came out of the screen. I wanted to do that, I wanted to experience that, because I was alive. It told me I was alive.” (John Carpenter, 1990)


From The Art of Blogging, How To Write A Great Blog Post: A Beginner’s Guide, by the prolific Cristian Mihai, a brisk and straightforward tutorial on improving the quality of one’s blog posts.

When it comes to headlines, this is the one rule you must never, ever forget about. Do not deceive your readers. (Mihai, How To Write A Great Blog Post)

Also from Mihai, The Bittersweet Truth About Making Money Blogging.

You must blog in order to genuinely help your readers. Imagine who your readers are, what they look like, what they want most in this world, and figure out ways to help them. (Mihai, The Bittersweet Truth About Making Money Blogging)


From The Stray Branch, the release of the Spring/Summer 2019 issue (no 23, vol 20) featuring, The Dead of Venice by Dan Klefstad and cover art by Amber Berk.

Stray Branch founder, Debbie Berk, also has a new book of poetry and prose out titled Seasons and Shadows.


The fiction circular will continue next week.


If you enjoy our work, you can support us here.

Fiction Circular 3/22/19

§00. Editor’s note: links affixed to author/publisher’s name will redirect to author/publisher social media, links affixed to story/article titles will redirect to the site whereupon the named piece is archived. The ‘authors’ section focuses on lone individuals who publish their own literary work, ‘organizations’ section focuses upon independent presses, lit-mags, e-zines and other literary organizations who publish fictive work of multiple authors and ‘literary ephemera’ focuses on non-prose non-fiction literature, such as certain poems, news and art theory articles, reviews, interviews and critiques. All author/publication names arranged by alphabetical order (including ‘the’).


§01. Editor’s note on criteria for inclusion: a publication is considered ‘independent’ if it is self-contained and sustaining, that is to say, if it does not rely upon the staff, organizational prowess or financial backing of large corporations, academies, governments or other large entrenched organizations. For example, Sink Hollow Litmag will not be included on the list, not due to the quality or lack thereof of their work, but rather, because they are supported by Utah State University (and thus, are not independent).


§. AUTHORS

From Shreya Vikram, Faith. Vikram’s characteristic passionate, murky poetic stylings find a excellent match in the topic of religion and the difficulties entailed in its practice.

These secrets of the human race, those tantalizing tidbits that lie forever undiscovered.

These beliefs for which there can never be enough witnesses, never enough stories.

I heard it, they’ll say. I saw it with my own eyes.

But the what-ifs are always stronger.

 

— Faith


From the talented Steve Hart, another installment of The Promise of Shaconage: Act 177: The Long Sharp Spear.

Timpoochee was haunted by the vision of that ghost-like figure he saw on the shore.

He was so distant, thought Timpoochee, but so close, so familiar.

A kingfisher suddenly darted across the bows of Timpoochee’s trading boat and dove starkly into the water just ahead, re-emerging with a tiny fish gored on its beak.

The kingfisher, he thought, spearing fish. The best hunter.

 

— Act 177: The Long Sharp Spear

From, Wicked Fables, who published, Immortalitus. A gripping tale of a asteroid miners indebted to a life-extension corporation. It would have been nice to have more “show” and less “tell” but the telling was done so well and with such noir clarity that I didn’t really mind in the end.

-the only afterlife you get is in the memories of those that knew you.

 

— Immortalitus


§. LITERARY EPHEMERA

From Lunarian Press, Connie Willis: One of My Favorite Science Fiction Authors, a brisk rumination on the works of the prolific American science fiction writer, Constance Elaine Trimmer Willis.

“Willis excels at the slow reveal–the surface of her stories can seem ordinary, but powerful currents move in their depths.”

 

— Connie Willis: One of My Favorite Science Fiction Authors


New Pop Lit continues their investigation into the need (or superfluousness) of new literary forms, in a series of interviews with various literary personalities in The Answers! The question: “Does the contemporary short story need to be radically revamped in order to reach a broader audience?” Answers markedly varied.

Whatever happens in terms of form, the mediums through which new literature is made, saved and disseminated must be given equal attention. The medium is the message.

Meakin Armstrong, magazine editor: The market for short fiction is already broad; it’s just that the market is fragmented, thanks to technology. Incredible short fiction is being published right now, and probably more of it is being published than ever before. One unintended consequence of technology, however, is that this avalanche of short fiction has tended to fragment the market. Nearly every day, I hear of a new small press or a new journal—and that’s great. But nonetheless, it’s still one more new journal; one more new press—with presumably only a static number of readers out there. Arguably, the lack of money is freeing, though. At Guernica, I don’t give a rat’s ass about our market, because there’s no money in it, anyway. But writers still need money. Publishers still need money. So if you’ve got money, SEND MONEY. That means actually subscribing to those journals you pretend to read and supporting those presses you say you love. With money, short fiction will figure out its own shit. Just don’t expect to be your friend: all good fiction prefers to bite the hand that feeds it.

 

— The Answers!


From Terror House MagazineThree Poems by Glahn; Mysteries, The Devil In Me and The Sun Was There.

But it is coming out now
the truth
And it is a goddamn thing, isn’t it
I try to hold it back

 

— Mysteries


Thomas E. Staples releases his new book, The Case of the Giant Carnivorous Worm, the cover of which is really quite spectacular (it also sounds rather conceptually amusing).


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Fiction Circular 3/8/19

§00. Editor’s note: links affixed to author/publisher’s name will redirect to author/publisher social media, links affixed to story/article titles will redirect to the site whereupon the named piece is archived. The ‘authors’ section focuses on lone individuals who publish their own literary work, ‘organizations’ section focuses upon independent presses, lit-mags, e-zines and other literary organizations who publish fictive work of multiple authors and ‘literary ephemera’ focuses on non-prose non-fiction literature, such as certain poems, news and art theory articles, reviews, interviews and critiques. All author/publication names arranged by alphabetical order (including ‘the’).


§01. Editor’s note on criteria for inclusion: a publication is considered ‘independent’ if it is self-contained and sustaining, that is to say, if it does not rely upon the staff, organizational prowess or financial backing of large corporations, academies, governments or other large entrenched organizations. For example, Sink Hollow Litmag will not be included on the list, not due to the quality or lack thereof of their work, but rather, because they are supported by Utah State University (and thus, are not independent).


§. AUTHORS


¶From Glahn, Goats. The less that is said about Glahn’s absolutely fantastic tale of chanting stick-pointers, the better. Highly recommended (if, that is, it is still up, the author’s posts are removed at regular intervals).

*Best of the week.

“Merrily we walked out of the town in the opposite direction of the bridge. Out of the town. Grand, huh? to expel yourself, to follow the inclinations of self-exile! I had forgotten I was a single thing back there but now I felt my rugged old heart swell and spill-”

 

— Goats


¶From Julian Gallo (via Medium), An Ashcan Burns At The Feet Of Christ. An allegory, equal parts poetic and grim.

“In the back alleys of Jerusalem a prophet lies naked, drunk and covered in sick-”

— An Ashcan Burns At The Feet Of Christ


§. ORGANIZATIONS


¶From Cheap Pop, Hell, by Jennifer Wortman. A story of dogma and youthful social fracture.

“She’s a part of your world, like the buckeye tree at the edge of your yard and the cardinals and robins that land there, and the dandelions everywhere, and the fat worms shining on the sidewalk after it rains.”

 

— Hell


¶From Literally Stories, The Shroud of Tulsa, by John B. Mahaffie, a story of the ways in which the most mundane and miniscule details can be transmogrified into myth.

“So before too long, starting with Tina retelling the stories all that day, and forgetting details and substituting some of her own, we ended up with water turned into wine, a man walking on water, and what came to be called the Shroud of Tulsa, now Plexiglass-encased at the Free and Independent Church of the Almighty on Leedy Turnpike, out past the landfill. “Tulsa,” since “Shroud of Springdale” doesn’t sound like anything.”

 

— The Shroud of Tulsa


¶From STORGY, I Did Not Push My Wife Off A Cliff, by Steve Gergley.

“I was there. And let me just say that that game was a heck of a lot closer than fifty-eight to nothing would suggest to the layman—er, excuse me—laywoman—God forbid I offend anyone…”

 

— I Did Not Push My Wife Off A Cliff

From Terror House Magazine, Anfisa, by Serge Clause. A tale of longing set in Russia.

“As time went on, spring came and the frost stopped. My friends took out their iron horses, and we from Stars Town began to ride our motorcycles in Ulan-Ude.”

 

— Anfisa

¶From The Arcanist, Leave No Trace, by Gabrielle Bleu.

“The damage from the wildfire five months ago was extensive. The park still needed all hands to aid in its recovery. And there was that increase in poaching on protected lands, an abnormal thinning of elk and deer herds started shortly after the wildfire had subsided. Beth eyed her rifle case. Funny that, the way the two coincided.”

 

— Leave No Trace


¶From The Dark Netizen, Clouds. Ms. Jadeli (a commentator on Netizen’s site) had noted that, to her, it sounded like a “excellent beginning to a book.” I’d agree. Hopefully it will be expanded upon at a future-date.

“The villagers speculated that the boy was not right in his mind. They asked the other children to stay away from this child who seemingly suffered from poor mental health. However, the little boy did not mind being alone. He would hunt for food, bathe under the waterfall, and sleep on trees. He did not need anybody.”

 

— Clouds


¶From Surfaces, Terminal Lux, by Nick Greer, a peculiar, esoteric digression on simulation and class.

“:: dwell not on the epsilon beyond your binds.”

 

— Terminal Lux


¶From X-R-A-Y Literary Magazine, The Whole Flow, by Angie McCullah, the story of motherhood, illness and the fluidity of emotion.

“It is now just the boy and me and boxes of a chemical his own body can’t supply and also the beta fish in a bowl I bought to cheer him up. We sit in a small rowboat, bobbing. If you were to pull back from the tiny craft, a sunset pink behind us and a whole gray ocean slippery with fish and other sealife below, we would look like two brightly colored scraps barely tethered by my outrage, which is better, at least, than liquefying and drowning.”

 

— The Whole Flow


§. LITERARY EPHEMERA

¶Nothing to report.


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Fiction Circular 1/24/19

“Substitute ‘damn’ every time you’re inclined to write ‘very;’ your editor will delete it and the writing will be just as it should be.” — Mark Twain

INDEPENDENT AUTHORS

First up, Peter Midnight from The Storyhive.

The wings of the angel might belong to the angel of death… — The Storyhive, Peter Midnight

From the inimitable J. Brandon Lowry, the short story, The Dredger (2018), a peculiar tale of a reckless scientist tasked with investigating a dangerous bat cave. Its a fascinating tale (especially since I can’t ever recall reading a story that made guano scary) and exceptionally well written, as ominous as it is uplifting. Considering that it is an abridged version of the story it will be interesting to read the unabridged version whenever it comes out.

“-it is within such tales that we stare death in its cold, empty eyes and rejoice that we are indeed still alive.” — J. Brandon Lowry, The Dredger

Also well worth reading, Break Up, Break Down, & Break Face by , a moving story of betrayal, loss and the value and rarity of loyalty.

“No,” she said.

It took a moment for the words to sink in. This wasn’t right. That’s not how it goes. I opened my mouth to say something. Anything. Nothing came out. I closed my mouth. Opened it. Closed it. Like a fucking Hungry Hippo. Grasping for the right words. The plastic pill to change her answer.

“Get up. You’re making a scene. And put that thing away,” the disgust on her face was plain to see. — P. Blake, Break Up…

And lastly, Between The Stars by Sable Whisper, a gripping, slow-boiling space-thriller.

The twenty-four crewmembers of Icarus-3 were all dead.

Telemetry from their personal monitors no vital signs, but the ship’s own systems had been locked, so even Control could not gain access; no remote control or data capture would be possible. Only its location was available, one of the few things almost impossible to conceal from Command.

And so, the case had fallen to me. — S. Whisper, Between The Stars

INDEPENDENT PUBLISHERS

From 101 Words, The Tome by Justin Williams. Excellent flash fiction.

“I’m in this book…?”

“Everyone is.” — J. Williams, The Tome

From X-R-A-Y, Jon Berger debuts his heady short story, Plant Replant detailing the psychosis of drug culture.

“The next morning I’m driving back to my Grandmas still high and cozy, speeding down the bumpy road in my 98’ Bonneville with too many miles on it. Gridded up farm fields on all sides. These giant white windmills were being built in the middle of the fields to collect energy. Looking like Godzilla seagulls waving around lost with nothing to break.” — J. Berger, Plant Replant

From Terror House Magazine; Punchline by Michael Carter. A delirious and beautifully written piece of flash fiction.

Perhaps an office worker could awaken from uneasy dreams to find himself transformed into an insect; perhaps a jilted girl’s unhappiness could flood the world with tears. — M. Carter, Punchline

LITERARY EPHEMERA

Wrestling reviewer and short fiction author, Baron Zach M., announces that his novel is well-underway. We’re looking forward to reading it.

The true-crime film Gosnell, which follows the trial of serial killer abortionist, Kermit Gosnell, hit #1 in New Drama on Amazon; a book of the same name is available on Amazon. Gosnell crimes received very little coverage and even after he was put away, few enough know his name or deeds which was likely a consequence of the political atmosphere which looked upon any vocal opposition to abortion as being against women (and since most of Gosnell’s “patients” were black, one was likely to be called not just a woman-hater, but a “racist” as well). It is therefore fortunate that this sordid episode has received such a thorough treatment, that it may better elucidate many of the frequent (and frequently unremarked upon) horrors of the abortion industry and those who aid and abet it.

Lastly, Mick Ryan has a fascinating article up concerning the usefulness of sci-fi to real-world military thought and practice.

Reading science fiction reinforces the enduring nature of war.  Finally, science fiction permits us to test the principles of war in force design.  Based on two millennia (or more) of human conflict, science fiction can provide another framework to assess the continuing value of these principles, and the enduring nature of war as described by Clausewitz.  — M. Ryan, Science Fiction, JPME & The Australian Defense College

END NOTES

Thanks for reading. We’re always happy to take recommendations for authors and publishers to include in our weekly circular, if you know any, feel free to email us (logosliterature@yandex.com) or write to the site administrator directly.

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Fiction Circular 9/26/18

FLASH

From The Dark Netizen, the supernatural revenge story, Highway To Hell.

“Now, he was bringing hell to the demon…” —Highway To Hell.

From And Miles Before I Go To Sleep… Daughter’s Surprise by Ramya Tantry.

“You sacrificed your wishes so that you can fulfill mine.” —Daughter’s Surprise

From Heart In Print By Jaya, Where’s My Master?

“Has the master been abducted?” — Where’s My Master?

From Iain Kelly, ROXY.

“Glitz and glamour away from the gaudy Strip and the drug-riddled suburb slums.

The waitresses. All young, slim, white. Wearing just enough.” — ROXY.

From X-R-A-Y Magazine, Theme Park Suicide by Teddy Duncan. A grim tale which shows how even those who seem to have given up on life haven’t given up on human connectivity. Duncan’s work was excerpted from a as-yet unpublished chapbook.

“I just really didn’t want to feel alone when I died, no matter how fucked up it is if I was going to do it I needed an audience.” — Theme Park Suicide.

Also from X-R-A-Y Mag, The Broken Teeth Diaries by Joe Bielecki.

“We used to be in a mouth but were evicted by a fist in the winter outside of a bar by a bouncer.” —The Broken Teeth Diaries.

From Gone Lawn (issue 30), Bird Bones by Texan author, Tara Isabel Zambrano.

“One day, at work, he died of electrocution from a faulty device— his limbs twisted like the blades of a fan.” —Bird Bones.

The Story Hive is back in business with Med Bay Snippet #6. An interesting sci-fi, though you may want to catch up on parts 1 through 5 before reading part 6.

“There it is, that dirty humor that keeps us all alive. That and the air, the pressure, the heat, and the food.” —Med Bay Snippet #6.


BOOK-LENGTH WORKS

From hidden gem, Gn0me, Under Forests of Futility by Rasu-Yong Tugen, Baroness de Tristeombre. A collection of poems by the author of A Natural History of Seaweed Dreams and Songs from the Black Moon.

“Vast lattices of black shale engulf us while we sleep. Primordial roots hunch over, as if in prayer. Arching acacia and star pine whisper spectral apprehensions. Black opal rains submerge everything permanent.” — Under Forests of Futility.


LITERARY EPHEMERA

From The Rational Arumentator, Victory Against The Formican Hordes by Gennady Stolyarov II, a poem.

“Deep in the crevices where there is scantly light,
Formican hordes amassed, antitheses of right:
The tyrant queen, attendant sycophantic knaves,
Vast quantities of servants – or compliant slaves –
Not even one savant among them to protest
Antagonistic ploys to rouse their dormant nest.
In wanton disregard of property and tact alike
At my abode they militantly sought to strike,
Past every antechamber to the kitchen went,
Detected every speck pursuant to its scent,
In swarms outrageous antics perpetrated,
Blatantly coveted the food refrigerated!”

—Victory Against The Formican Hordes, first stanza.

Lastly, from Cristian Mihai has a short guide to writing in the form of The Definitive, Increadibly Short, Easy-To-Follow, No-Bullshit Guide To Blogging.

“-stop complaining and punch those damn keys.” — The Definitive etc Guide To Blogging.


Thanks for reading. If you appreciate our work publishing and promoting independent literary works, you can support us here.

Reclaimer: Episode I

The heat of the newly risen sun cut like a thousand scythes across Miner 457’s arching body as he toiled in the layered soil. The strip mine was expansive. Total area of four-hundred feet by five hundred feet, sinking down with mechanical specificity some fifty-five feet below ground. It was one of fourteen which dotted the scoured, patchy landscape of the desert.

The earth-shifters surrounded him like giant steel spiders, tearing at the silt and stone and clay in dull rhythmic undulations. He was one of only three other miners who had been dispatched to the barren waste by The Unity. The mine had no name, like as it’s workers, only a formal designation: Zone 8-83.

Miner 457 moved to the edge of the newest pit, gazing down the slate walls to the basin of Zone 8-83; in the shadow of that rectangular abyss Miner 400 remained. She had taken a seat upon the ground. Breach of protocol. A dangerous one at that, the slate was unstable, it’s hissing uncertainty could be heard even over the clanging of the clockwork earth-shifters, tearing at the skin of the world as if the whole of the globe had committed some dire treachery deserving of punishment.

“Miner 400!”

Her visor-clad head snapped instantly to the ledge. Biosensors alight and swarming the visual plane of her helm-covering, affixing itself to 457, mapping bio-metrics, hers and his alike. Bio-chemical spikes, indicative of anger. The woman’s heart knocked against her ribs like the bellows of some mad-dash furnace, fear overtaking exhaustion; the whole of her form.

“Sitting down on the job – in a slag pit nonetheless – is a direct contravention of protocol. The slate-walls could collapse at any moment! You trying to get yourself killed, 400?”

“I’m sorry – I was very tired. I just… I had to sit down…”

“Don’t apologize, woman, just move! Can’t you hear the stack crumbling?”

The nearest earth-shifter turned upon Miner 457, hissing out a message. A crackling, mechanical monotone that echoed off across the vast flatness of the strip-mine and vanished across the red sands of the outer rim.

“Elevated stress levels detected. Miner 457, please remain calm. Aggression towards co-operatives is unacceptable.”

“It doesn’t matter right now – can’t you hear the stack? It’s collapsing, we mustn’t have braced it properly! You need to get down there and protect our worker!”

“A reminder, 457: These co-operatives are not ‘our’ workers. They belong to Unity. As do you. As do we all. A true Unified owns nothing.”

“We really don’t have time for this right now. Get down there and get her out of the pit! 400, you need to move – NOW!”

The walls of the slag pit were wavering, layers of dirt, silt and stone shifted down in sputtering clouds of dust upon Miner 400 who scrambled to the left-most bracewall and began climbing the ladder their affixed as fast as her arching body would carry her.

“457: Elevated aggression levels further increasing: untenable. Administering ana-gel.”

The massive drone scuttled swiftly across the shattered skein to stand before Miner 457, long, jointed legs moving out towards the young man like a crustacean preparing to pluck a husk of carrion.

“I don’t need the damned gel, you stupid hunk of junk!”

457 diverted his back-up power to the core, shoulders and arms of his exo-suit scant moments before the claws of the earth-shifter would have reached him. With a grunt of supreme exertion, Miner clasped upon the underside of the drone’s claws and shunted them aside. Muscles afire, he shifted, turning heel and dashing towards the pit as the shifter static-bellowed behind him.

“Invective will not be tolerated, you should comply with protoc-”

No time for protocol. Only time to act. Purely. Intensely. Decisively.

Miner 457 tuned out the drone’s crackling-radio static voice which continued to fizzle through the rarefied mid-morning air and rushed to the edge of the slag pit, his heart pulsing like a serpent coiled about it’s prey. Miner’s shadow evaporated into nothingness under the radiant brands of the fulminate sphere as his eyes slide left then right over the wasted plain of sand and stone. Miner 401 and 402 were nowhere to be seen.

No time to think about them; too far away to help, he mouthed to himself as he ran, feet rooted to a restless shadow.

Kneeling and grasping on to the ladder as the northern-most wall began to collapse, the miner lowered his torso down as far as possible into the chasm, extending his steel-plated hand, hoping to feel fingers shortly grasping back. The mining suit lent considerable strength and durability, the whole of the exo-skeleton grafted directly into the inhabitant’s nervous system. With an exo one man wielded the strength and speed of ten, the titanium-ceramic body plating able to withstand a heat-blast from a industrial furnace and the weight of a fully equipped earth-shifter. Yet the exos had their limits. Miner 400’s suit was fully intact, indeed, newly fitted, but no amount of external armor could save her should the rock-face of the mining pit swallow her in it’s tenebrous maw. Nothing could.

“Faster, 400! FASTER!”

Palled in darkness he could hear only her ragged breath, it’s sharp in’s and out’s and the quick collapsing brace-wall which screamed against it’s imminent dispossession like the spirit of some hideous shade.

Then all was chaos as the brace-wall gave way to 10,000 tons of rock which sundered the metal binding like gelatin and careened to the earth with all the destructive alcahest of some great and vengeful god.

 

Sex, Violence, Death, Toil: A Brief Primer on Fiction Writing, Prt.5 [Coda]

Those that wish to shift any power structure will need to pervade not just in the military, the media and the legislation-complex but also in the arts.

– A Brief Primer on Fiction Writing, Part. 4

In the previous installment of this series I briskly documented the strange case of the self-styled “Leftist Fight Club,” created by the organization, Knights of Socialism (no, really, that’s what they call themselves) of the University of Central Florida. The group was inspired by the film Fight Club which was, in turn, inspired by the fictional novel of the same name by freelance journalist and transgressive novelist, Chuck Palahniuk. I illustrated this organization due to how starkly it showed the way in which art can work as a model for human action (outside of a momentary shaping of consciousness – that is to say, that which moves well beyond merely evoking a, “Ah, that’s cool.”). But it is far from a isolated incident.

Art as a model for human action.  (continued)

Casting our attention back in time to the reign of Napoleon Bonaparte we can see the power of dynamic art to sway the minds and hearts of men by the numerous cartoons which were printed by the British to defame him after that once venerable sovereignty had set its sights upon the newly founded French Empire.

bonaparte_4_624
The Plumb-Pudding In Danger, by James Gillray. The pictured-above is the most famous of the Napoleonic Cartoons & features the Emperor himself [right] seated across from British Prime Minister, William Pitt [left].
Such ridiculous caricatures upset the Emperor nearly as much as it amused its target demographics. In fact, the artwork so perturbed Napoleon (who as a master statesman knew well enough the import of “optics”) that he attempted, unsuccessfully, to convince the British newspapers to suppress them which only further inflamed the pre-war tensions between the two countries and invariably contributed to Britain’s ultimate decision to topple the new, and seemingly ever-expanding, French regime. The British, however, were not the only one’s utilizing art to their political ends, for Napoleon himself commissioned numerous paintings of himself, typically highly romanticized, after each of his successful battles to the effect that every battle was garnished in a aura of sacrality. The most popular of these numerous portraits, Napoleon Crossing The Alps, is still endlessly reproduced today.

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Napoleon Crossing The Alps by Jacques-Louis David

But let us return to our central concern, writing, and flash forth to 1909, Paris.

Le Figuro has just published a most shocking text upon the front page of their magazine.

Antonio-Sant_Elia-Housing-with-external-lifts-and-connection-systems-to-different-street-levels-from-La-Città-Nuova-1914-1005x1024
“Housing with external lifts and connection systems to different street levels”, from La Città Nuova, by Futurist Architect, Antonio Sant’Elia

The Founding and Manifesto of Futurism.

The text, penned by the avante-garde Alexandrian-Italian poet, F.T. Marinetti,  venerate the arrival of the machinic age and establish, “-war as the world’s only hygiene-,” and “-scorn for woman-,” as well as a whole host of revolutionary political aspirations which were as negatory and violet as they were prescient and constructive. The document would go on to spawn the socio-political art movement known as Futurism (not to be confused with Futurology – someone who is interested in prospective technology, a term which, today, is often used interchangeably with what we shall call lowercase ‘futurism’). The Futurists in their near 40 year reign, lead by Marinetti, aided in the creation of Fascism, guided the rise of Mussolini, championed both World Wars (and fought in them), pioneered the arts with the creation of noise music and free word poetry and inspired three of the most well known modern art movements, Dada, Vorticism and Surrealism – all three of which, in turn, continue in their own subtle ways, to influence art to this very day.

The reason futurism was so successful is that, despite it’s chaotic veneer, it, rather uniquely, was expressly designed and consciously, methodically implemented into every sphere of life. There were futurist theories on war, aesthetics,  dance, music, politics (they advocated for women’s suffrage and sexual liberation for the express purpose of destabilizing society). They even had futurist cook books. But more than all of the ephermera, Futurism was a philosophy of life, wherein one strove ever to extend and glorify, not just one’s self, but the whole of the world even at the cost of its selfsame destruction. It was the endless, ceaseless, remorseless, ripping away of all that which was stultified and corrosive and hurling oneself at the world with, as Marinetti put it, “-ardor, splendor, and generosity, to swell the enthusiastic fervor of the primordial elements.”

 

All this from a five page short-story/manifesto written by a relatively unknown, non-native-born poet.

Remember that when next you doubt the efficacy of your penmanship.

Lift up your heads!

Erect on the summit of the world, once again we hurl defiance to the stars!

-ending verse of the Futurist Manifesto