Dad Tells Me How They Made Sausage Christina Holzhauser Oh yeah, we made our own sausage. Had a sausage grinder. Grind that all up. Stuff it. Put it in, oh, used to, years ago, they used to take the guts from the hogs—they clean all that outta there. Sometime we started buyin’ it at the…
Rivet Issue 5 Welcome to the first anniversary issue of Rivet Journal! It has been our absolute delight to bring you a smorgasbord of writing that risks over this last year, and Rivet issue 5 kicks off our second year with a celebratory feast of voices and visions. There is something for every palate –…
Two Poems Lauren Carpenter I Thought I Could Be Somebody Else Ruler snaps on my desk: ——————–I am not a stick ——————–beating the chain-link. Not a power plant arcing with blue light. ———-I am probably a dahlia with a face like an empty plate, who does not have the words to claim ———-“I am wild.”…
Dr. Gorgonzola of the Ripening Caves Tantra Bensko 1 Dr. Gorgonzola, pale in the sun, cringes from its rays. Her globular hands curd themselves so tightly against the sky, clenched upon her anger, they drip residual whey. Dr. Gorgonzola experiences non-linearly, as a semi-individuated part of her species. Momentarily she is nearly overcome by the…
The Cinema Scene on John’s Shoe Christine Brandel Cut to this: you and I have dropped off the grass and melt into the water Jesus walked near. Our bodies are rich and warm like coffee milk that rings your mouth without your knowing it. John, you and I are things that are poured down throats….
