“PACK THE VAN, Marty,” Jack said. “Now?” “Now. Make sure you have everything. Video and stills for all three of us.” “OK. For what?” “The last bullfight,” he said. “Mexicans are outlawing bullfighting at the end of April. We have nine days to make the last one in Huamantla. La Taurina.” “Why?” “To make a … Continue reading The Last Bullfight
Author: Kyle Newman
The World’s Most Powerful Microscope
I wonder if the problem lies with me or infinity. Each day is its own kind of monster. More and more advertising speaks directly to me. Hearing but not listening. Listening but not hearing. Hot breath in my ear while I try to pick the lock on these handcuffs with my teeth. I need to … Continue reading The World’s Most Powerful Microscope
Cryptophasia
IT MIGHT HAVE STARTED with our father gifting my sister and me Swiss Army knives for our birthdays. Or maybe it was the broccoli and cauliflower drowned in melted Cheese Whiz he forced us to eat. My twin sister, in our private language, shared her revenge fantasies for that particular parenting faux pas. I won’t … Continue reading Cryptophasia
Simmer
Armored blimps circling while villains build home aquariums: Know that when everything is spider-cracked, when car washes and gas stations and banks oversaturate suburbia, no tablemaking demonstration can save me. I light a candle just to dip my finger in the wax. Envision my hesitationas an oil rig. Snowbroth.A lot of pennies scattered on a … Continue reading Simmer
Untitled (Jellyfish Poem)
The jellyfish take the 6:00 AM train down to the beach. Some of the jellyfish make it through the sliding doors, some of them fall off the platform onto the tracks. I am the only not jellyfish on the train. The jellyfishes’ electric thoughts paint the ceiling of the car, the windows lit with neon … Continue reading Untitled (Jellyfish Poem)
Zero/One
THE SCIENCE FICTION WRITER waited outside the hotel, a revolver hanging heavy in the inner pocket of his overcoat. He’d only fired it twice, but at close range he didn’t imagine he’d have any difficulties. His hand was steady as he brought a cigarette to his mouth and puffed; in any case, it was all … Continue reading Zero/One
Almost Rich
I’ve been dreaming in my room, not getting anything done. Dreaming about finding pennies from the Roaring ’20s. Picking up the phone all the time, then immediately putting it down. Dancing in a silver light threatening to turn gray. Waiting for everything to equalize. Dreaming and waiting and dreaming of a chance to dream free, … Continue reading Almost Rich
The Difference Between a Lake and a Pond
ALL THAT WINTER, they watched it. Someone had cleared a rectangle of snow from the frozen pond, or lake, whichever it was, that lay at the northernmost side of their neighborhood in Ypsilanti where the streets began to yield to farms, and at one end of the ice they placed a hockey net. But it … Continue reading The Difference Between a Lake and a Pond
Why James Tate and I May Write Alike
I GUESS I OWE everything to the old moose head hanging over the front desk at the Beaver Lake Lodge in Wild Duck, Minnesota. It is a rather large obnoxious thing even for me and it usually needs dusting. The first time I visited the lodge I was just out of college likely trying to … Continue reading Why James Tate and I May Write Alike
2025 Pushcart Prize Nominees
Here are Hidden Peak Press' 2025 Pushcart Prize nominees.