Letter to Bernadette Mayer March 13th, 2020 I’m drunk and in the dream of how things get written. Not eating running at least three miles a day, water and some good rye from out east of Salt Lake tides me over. I have been fostering this idea where I send you some money soon… Read More Letter to Bernadette Mayer ~ poetry by Andrew Romanelli
So kind of Ron to come over, help you out to the porch for a chat. Such a nice man. He brought me flowers. They got me thinking. Lilies will be an obvious choice, but they have that awful funeral smell. Perhaps hardy daisies mixed with blue gladiolus? Flowers that don’t lean on each other,… Read More That Funeral Smell ~ fiction by Karen Walker
“Talk to yourself like you would to someone you love.” Anne had stumbled upon a cache of affirmations on Pop Sugar and was painstakingly writing them down on an unopened envelope from LADWP. A late payment notice. She could tell by the red ink on the bill peeking through. Anne did not write them all… Read More Affirmations for a Virus ~ fiction by Laura Louden
Snacks, Cigarettes, Beer, Slots, Sloths Outside, the sun rose like an oncoming aneurysm. The gas pumps were explosive elephants, the parking lot, a potholed safari. It was the opposite of rush hour. A long row of sloths played the slots that lined the dirty window of the Circle K. All three toes curled around the… Read More Two Micro Stories ~ fiction by Jennifer Battisti
It’s the one he took while we were standing outside The World Diner and I was caught off-guard and he was smiling and behind us, in the sky, Fourth of July, a chemtrail heart, hanging, before things changed, before the truth of our world changed. The photo was on the stand next to the bed.… Read More Grief Has Hidden My Picture ~ fiction by Ron Burch
One of the greatest pleasures I get as editor of your The Disappointed Housewife is opening an unsolicited submission and finding a piece that really “gets” our mission. My grin broadens as I read it, each line telling me that this writer is a natural at what we want to publish: We’re looking for stories… Read More What to Send to The Disappointed Housewife ~ editorial plea by Kevin Brennan
No more with the game plan where I badmouth everything I do, think, and feel. For instance, I sexted Grace and she wrote back, “lmao maybe later in the week.” Ok, see, a line has two sides, and time, it’s been proven by scientists, seems to move faster as you age. This was not a… Read More Fervent Waiting ~ fiction by Sean Ennis
AUTHOR’S NOTE: These are found poems for which I used the January 2020 issue of O Magazine as my source material. For each poem, I would start with a word or short phrase, then move forward until I found a new word or phrase that joined it in an interesting way, and keep going until I had… Read More Three poems ~ poetry by Marilyn Cavicchia
4, the tendons of the foot, sinew stretched taut as rubber bands, cat gut. 4 is also an exposed thigh bone, close to an (n), horizontal and lateral lines on a map of a body flayed open for investigation. 4(e), a silent scream, or a smile, a sarcastic smirk, a laugh aborted. Two teeth missing,… Read More On Paper ~ poetry by Holly Day
Write a short scene in which a character based on the female model wearing the “Olivia Velvet Dress” in Crimson falls for the male model in the “Play It Again Henley” in Smoke. Write the same scene from the omniscient limited point of view of the male model who must tell your character that she… Read More Ten Writing Prompts Inspired by the Sundance Holiday Catalog ~ writing inspiration by Ashley Memory
The Disappointed Housewife is pleased to nominate the following stories and poems for the 2021 Pushcart Prizes: FICTION: “Mid-Januinary Radio Jam” by Jim Meirose “The Hopskotch King” by Jake Sheff “The Apparitions” by Kirsty McGrory POETRY: “Oranges (for Frank O’Hara) by Christina M. Rau “If I seem distracted, I’m working on my party trick” by… Read More Pushcart Prize Nominations 2021
Multihyphenate With a swish, he departed the foyer, a small trail of rhinestones witnessing his farewell (coordinating the seemingly incommensurate, like making friends, never worried him.) Most tenders of criticism on his projects fell away, wordlessly (any limits imposed Were for others’ work, least he neglect the surrounding conditions of his genius’ foci.) Essential fights… Read More Two Poems ~ poetry by KJ Hannah Greenberg
1. Absorption I’ve spent decades bioaccumulating PCBs, manganese, & especially organophosphate pesticides —my mother and I both l0ved apples. All us kids on the block followed the mosquito trucks on our Schwinns & Huffys breathing malathion and tHermal oils then for dinner potatoes, spinach strawberries doused with repeated chemical washes and now my nerve signals… Read More If I seem distracted, I’m working on my party trick ~ poetry by Lisa Bledsoe
It was a phrase you hadn’t used often, but one that quickly dominated your life. It became your children’s favorite word. Morning and night they chanted it. In your local grocery store when something was found not agreeable, it was deemed fake. In a court of law, testimony not to someone’s liking was labeled fake.… Read More Sustainable ~ fiction by Xenia Taiga
All the pictures on my account are at least five years old. If your pictures aren’t recent don’t bother matching. About me: My kids don’t speak to me and I avoid my neighbors as much as they avoid me. I watch ten hours of television a day and I’m banned from commenting on most news… Read More Tinder Swipe Left ~ poetry by John Tustin
The Fly “Have you ever heard of insect politics? Neither have I. Insects … don’t have politics. We can’t trust the insect …. I’m saying … I’m saying I — I’m an insect who dreamt he was a man and loved it.” Something goes horribly wrong when a homophobic vice president inserts himself into an experiment… Read More 7 Monster Movies to Scare the Pants Off Republicans ~ movie capsules by Elizabeth Johnston
We’d talked about starting a vegetable garden for years, but it took the pandemic to make us actually do it. I’d realised quite swiftly that the weekly Ocado delivery was a thing of the past and that if I wanted a reliable supply of lollo rosso and dill, I’d have to grow it myself. In… Read More Some Notes on Container Gardening During the Apocalypse ~ fiction by Tabitha Potts
I read that Eddie Van Halen died and my mind immediately turned to Valerie Bertinelli, the Valerie now, the one who judges children’s baking skills—skills I’ll never have and am not too interested in having—and how sad she must be even though things didn’t quite work out between the two of them all those years… Read More [I read that Eddie Van Halen died…] ~ poetry by Christina M. Rau
I roll onto your side of the bed, still warm and a little damp from last night. Since our son was born, you always pull out and cum on your side. The smell of semen and sweat lingers between silk sheets. But another child at the moment would be foolish. Cruel. Running water from our… Read More For Them ~ fiction by Paul Attmere
Gagootz: Staten Island for zucchini, from the Italian cucuzza. My husband used to call me his gagootz, a term of endearment like cute, when he started to call me cunt I moved to another state. Now, I am the caregiver of my ancient mother. All day the TV blasts, MSNBC our Big Brother. It could… Read More The Gagootz ~ poetry by Vicki Iorio
I’m driving to my job at the university, running a little late, and I see two guys carrying a toilet into Taco Bell. They’re crouched over like it’s kind of heavy, one’s got the door propped open with his shoulder, getting the toilet through the entrance looks awkward. So maybe Taco Bell is getting a… Read More Two Guys Carrying a Toilet Into Taco Bell ~ essay by Jacqueline Doyle
turtle race at Northeastern University, 29 foot marathon course – Billy the Kid reenactment, cow chip tossing, world championship cornstalk shoot – Esley Hallett’s historic timepieces: water clocks, sundials, hour glasses – International Worm Fiddling contest – gondola on the Wabash, village of violets, house of “Little Boy Blue” bird carving in Salisbury, bump-jumping in… Read More Alternative America ~ poetry by John Grey
I. Those years of words unspoken simply thought and kept to the self may never emerge, lost to time under tension. II. He asked for extended kindness. She extended it, and he didn’t take it. Kindness wasted by the wayside. III. I don’t know what to say here. IV. There’s something about reflection in rippled… Read More Oranges (for Frank O’Hara) ~ poetry by Christina M. Rau
Fever, chills, cough— I want my wife to go up to the clinic. “What for?” she says from bed. “I have no underlying condition—except mortality.” A single laugh sets off a spasm of hacking, and, one hand bothering chest, “Like-hit-by-a-train,” she gets out, thick and foggy, of how she feels, before fading beneath a framed… Read More The Door ~ fiction by Vincent Barry
Back City, crank your evoluminations. All gosh to the great God Yul. Tangling. The way head’s tangleteening for a taking. Some sort of sport seems to be playing out back over here. So, look on. Let’s a’ look at yer radio. Breaking news this unprecedented eighty-degree late Januinary daytime. So, you say this squareradio’s not… Read More Mid-Januinary Radio Jam ~ fiction by Jim Meirose
Going back to a time before time could be recorded, in what came to be the modern state of Tanzania, chimpanzees had religion. Naturally, it was not a religion in the sense of our current ones, with texts and liturgy and hierarchies, but it was organized around the idea of a creator who had put… Read More The Birth of Religion ~ fiction by Janet Barrows
I moved into an apartment across the country to regain the independence I felt I had lost; it took me two days of living alone to understand that now is not the time for independence. I sleep in my friend’s unoccupied room because it feels better than admitting the tiny one next to it is… Read More Amidst the Chaos ~ pandemic essay by Kelsey Allen
Some pre-calc (binomial formula – for expanding (x + y)-to-the-n ) I’m sure you’re a most loyal FOIL-er and I’ll never be a FOIL-spoiler but when n, for its britch gets too big, you should switch and be to this formula loyaler. (the non-minimum continuum) Real numbers are squashed as can be. They’re locked in… Read More A Factor of Minus-One ~ math limericks by Marion Deutsche Cohen
Poco moto, woman, Therese thought to herself, as she pulled herself up from the bed and towards the door. She felt she heard something scuttle away in response to the creak of the wooden floorboards as she padded, naked and content, through the hall. “They flee from me that sometime did me seek!” she sang… Read More The Apparitions ~ fiction by Kirsty McGrory
To touch the sky, grope it illicitly — Megan’s law for the ephemeral bits of nature, to be on a watch-list for (a lack of) life — for a vomit of – what we shall call “gesticulatory punctuation.” Oh, cheers and jeers coming down like a ballast, a ballast with a bible… Read More Success Man ~ poetry by Michael T. Smith
Author’s note: “I call this and similar digital poems ‘vaiku,’ or visual haiku, not strictly syllabic but Western haiku, to use Kerouac’s term, brief illuminations rendered in the haiku spirit. These works utilize public domain materials with hand-painted and/or hand-drawn elements.” Frederick Highland’s novels Ghost Eater and Night Falls on Damascus are published by St.… Read More I’ll Mend ~ vaiku by Frederick Highland
Sometimes there is summer. Sometimes there’s an episode of Lost, but only a moment, the smallest moment, where mangoes are bountiful, the music triumphs, the moment where a castaway and a beach resort have few degrees of separation. Sometimes I think Lost is something I should mention in a poem, an ABC drama could somehow… Read More Re: How Are You? ~ prose poem by Sutton Revell
My favorite thing, by far, is the opposite sex. But my next favorite is asking ridiculous questions, like ‘Why is the letter S always malingering?’ Or, ‘What is the smell of potatoes’ hatred?’ Optimism. What? Optimism. The answer to your questions. (He leans in and cups his ear.) Come again? Opti, opti opti. Mi-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-zum! (He… Read More The Hopscotch King ~ fiction by Jake Sheff
The Disappointed Housewife is looking for fiction, poetry, and essays that address the coronavirus pandemic, quarantine, social distancing, and other consequences of the world’s public health crisis. Where there’s trouble, there’s fodder for art. Submissions must meet our offbeat needs and adhere to our usual guidelines. Show us how these extraordinary times have inspired you… Read More Call for Pandemic Submissions
Rotation around an axis brings out the best in scalawags since Justice’s reach can’t otherwise touch janky persons or their kin. Accordingly, when sizing garapa for doghouses, cabin interiors, Also luxurious kitchen floors, it’s best to disregard frivolities like Pyrographically-inscribed poppies, puppies, wildebeest designs. In homes or industrial uses, planks mean “structure,” “durability,” “Low maintenance.”… Read More Poppies and Other Frivolities ~ poetry by KJ Hannah Greenberg
Down to breakfast, sit. And late again, to boot. Ah, you and you, Sonboy—all you do is sleep on, and sleep on. But; how you got named—did we ever tell you how you got named, Sonboy? Did we? All spinning down from atop our attic apartments, it came. Listen. I am going to tell it… Read More How It’s Named; Sonboy ~ fiction by Jim Meirose
Yuan Changming published monographs on translation before leaving his native country. Currently, Yuan edits Poetry Pacific with Allen Qing Yuan in Vancouver, Canada. Credits include ten Pushcart nominations, eight chapbooks, and publications in Best of the Best Canadian Poetry (2008-17) and BestNewPoemsOnline, among others. Show Yuan some love via PayPal at magyuans(at)gmail(dot)com.
Monday “A fine healthy baby,” someone says, slapping my buttocks. Two heads I’ll recognize tomorrow as my parents’ peer at a small flat shiny thing. “Phone” will be my first word. “Want phone” my first sentence. T-r-i-l-l! On Wednesday I’ll scroll back to Monday’s Twitter feed and find that @Ma&PaGrundy wrote: “Doc sez our baby… Read More The Diary of S. Grundy ~ fiction by Faye Brinsmead
I afforded my life the patience and room it required to diet into nothing. For weeks, I’d lug clods of my material self to a pawn shop behind the lunch spot my co-workers loved. The man behind the counter—a beefy goth with hairy knuckles demarking the plump stubs of his fingers—would look through my things,… Read More What Does God Need With a Starship? ~ fiction by J. Campbell
There was an old woman who swallowed a fly. Interesting, but this in and of itself doesn’t tell us much. More information is required. As it turns out, she was old for the time in which this story took place but wouldn’t be considered old now. Fifty-something. Her name was Zerna. Our investigations have revealed… Read More There Was an Old Woman Who Swallowed a Fly: A Closer Look ~ fiction by Candace Kidd
