When Carolyn first wrote her bucket list, she was soaking in the tub after getting all the kids tucked into bed. Her oldest had a Spanish test and her youngest was complaining of a headache. She had
They lived in the suburbs on Planet B. In Autumn, the leaves fell. They were protein-rich, with biosensors.
The snow crunches under their feet as they make their way to the arena. The lights from the stadium reflect off the mud colored slush that seeps into their boots. They appreciate the ironic and so they
It all started with the initial surgery I had on my index finger. It was crooked, so much so that when I pointed at someone, I was never really pointing at them, but at something else, like a fire hydrant or an elm tree or something. It all became very confusing. The insurance considered this … Continue reading Magic Bus By Melanie Browne
Denise never expected to find herself covered in camouflage holding her breath underwater in swamp water, but that’s exactly where she was. “Like, gross!” she says as she re-emerges from the muck and realizes her contact lenses are covered with swamp mud. She pulls herself out of the water and lies on her back trying … Continue reading General Slaughter’s, Like, Revenge or Something by Melanie Browne
Senator Swine shuts the door to the hotel room and latches it and then turns around to look at me. He is still holding a glass of scotch and is wiping his forehead with a soggy green napkin that still has the words Iowa NRA. He stirs his drink and smiles at me. He coughs.
After the hard edges smoothed away, I saw nothing but the sky. I knew the car was still burning. I knew that he was still in there, but I didn’t care anymore. * The first time I saw Ed, he was passed out in an elevator. I was going out to lunch with my sister … Continue reading Love Me Tender by Melanie Browne
There is a gypsy goddess from the dark side of the moon living in Texas under the guise of Melanie Browne. I had the distinct pleasure of interviewing her for Pulp Metal Magazine. She is well known for her strong, quirky flash and abstract poetry, what you don’t know is she is a former sculptor, … Continue reading Jodi MacArthur talks to Melanie Browne
This morning my scrambled eggs are yellow. The grass on my lawn is green, apples on the counter red. I think of
I light a cigarette and look under the bed for my playing cards. I always find them stashed away in unusual places. I