2012 — The Monarch Review — Page 9
The Trouble With Arthur French – Brian Bahouth
Friday, July 27, 2012 12:33 — 1 Comment
Arthur fed two dollar bills into the machine and wobbled into the bus as it pulled away from the curb. So early on a Sunday morning there were only a couple other passengers, and Arthur sat across from a thick young woman wearing the black pants and white shirt and boxy shoes of a waitress. “Brianna†was spelled out on her name tag, and Arthur was making her nervous. He mumbled in violent fits and punched the air before speaking directly to her. “We held protests with signs and a bull horn and everything … we sent letters to the […]
Houseplants – John Thompson
Tuesday, July 24, 2012 12:00 — 0 Comments
Joey wedged a carefully packed box of dishes into a secure spot of the U-Haul. They’d bought most of their household at flea markets and garage sales when they first moved West, and they’d sold or would leave most of what they’d accumulated, but a potter back in Pennsylvania had crafted the dish set to celebrate their marriage, and it would make the return trip East. Maggie could always turn a place into a home. They would just do it all again when she was healthy and they came back to Colorado. A horn toot alerted Joey and he leaned […]
My Office Window – Luke Laubhan
Monday, July 23, 2012 13:44 — 0 Comments
In the land of offices, I have a second-story
C. Albert
Wednesday, July 18, 2012 15:41 — 5 Comments
Why do we talk about The Man On The Moon? Why do we see his face? Imagine his burden, the burden of being the constant reflection of our human experience, the only one in the sky. When I realized that I could see The Man On The Moon, I began to question my own reflection in the mirror. Once this distrust sank into reality, I found myself cleaning and preening in front of Albert’s collages. The mind has an amazing ability to absorb only pieces of “the bigger pictureâ€, the peaks, the valleys and the islands. It then constructs it’s […]
The Gulf – Radha Narayan
Tuesday, July 17, 2012 13:02 — 3 Comments
Long hot days permeated by the scent of petrol and rubber, and longer nights distended by the desert silence, have carried Abdul Ghassan from his thirtieth to his sixtieth birthday without his being aware of it. He wakes at dawn when salaah sounds at the mosque, performs his ablutions at the common facilities, and returns to his portable cabin to pray. Each trailer in the work-yard is partitioned to house two men, and Abdul Ghassan’s home is little more than a berth with a bedside table. There is just enough room on the floor to pray, and these days it […]
Muscovy – Sarah Rae
Sunday, July 15, 2012 13:35 — 0 Comments
The family business was insurance, and my Dad was the agent. Nearly every one of our clients had a claim. Same thing with every agency in southeast Louisiana. It backed us up as well as the companies. Processing claims took at least three months longer than usual. Many fell through cracks until we followed up. We inevitably lost business. Many people wouldn’t be returning to Louisiana at all, and whether it took a month or five years companies would be terminating contracts. There was no shortage of work. The old lazy days of coming into work, turning on the coffee pot […]
Smokey Brights
Thursday, July 12, 2012 12:53 — 2 Comments
“Yes! Worth it! Worth the $12,†my friend Andrew said to me after Smokey Brights left Neumos unquestionably bumpin’ last Saturday. In case you haven’t heard of them yet, Smokey Brights are a Seattle 5-piece whose best description might be contained within the implication of their name itself. Songs that are soaked with warm, rich tones pouring out from a hollow body electric along with glistening melodies and vocal performances that command your attention throughout their time on stage. All backed with tight rhythms. At the show, lead singer Ryan Devlin quickly shook off any stiffness that lingered over the […]
Mort – Daphne Stanford
Thursday, July 12, 2012 9:43 — 4 Comments
I leak, then bow and falter, over what is not enacted but leaves me stripped, unbound
First Thursday Art Schlock
Wednesday, July 11, 2012 16:57 — 0 Comments
As children we begin to hone the craft of inside jokes. Most often this form of art begins in the competitive warfare of recess. Its life then continues into the classroom and into the dreaded cliques and subgroups of the age-divided zones of social navigation. This practice leads us into adult life, where we then find other groups and cliques that seek an opportunity to distinguish or laugh. Many of us joke, jab and experiment, but very few are gifted with the ability to not only make an inside joke but make one that is appealing to the insider and […]
The answer isn't poetry, but rather language
- Richard Kenney
