We went to where the man had said would be a good place to hitch. We tried to hitch our way out. It was one of those gas stations in the middle of nowhere. Off the autobahn, and surrounded by trees. Even if we walked the length of the highway it was kilometers from anywhere. Our only hope
1 Because She Looks Like a Deer Running You told me to write a rap but I can’t spit rhymes, just pet dogs and feel wet grass with my fingertips. I tell you, Take your thigh gap and get the fuck out of my car but what I mean is, why won’t you stay here, let me
Last night I saw my body as a corpse, it was rigid and it looked cold. I was grey and final and I felt happy to give my body to the earth, to rid myself of that tiresome, fleshy suit, and retire my heavy armor. And I watched in delicious pleasure as my skin decayed
Early Memory of Writing I am diligently composing postcards. On the porch of my father’s house. Postcards that display the beauty of the island. The waterfalls in Ocho Rios. The white sand beaches in Negril. Waiting for him to come home. Patiently, at first, then anxiously. Never knowing how long he will be gone. Never
A Poem with Roses in it The world is filled with the notebooks of children. I am reading a poem I’ll never read again. I will die without writing all I could. There are more poems in the world than flowers. Last night I took off my shoes in the rose garden to walk through
No-One She ponders upon a quote from the French philosopher Lacan: “I think where I am not, therefore I am where I do not think.” This has her thinking about thinking and thinking about where this is, where she does not think.Where she does not think, she thinks, she wouldn’t think about where she thinks
Do you remember when you were born? It was 10:30am and a gloriously sunny St. Patrick’s Day morning. You were due to enter the parade of elderflower cordial, fungi, French beans, garlic, Ninja Turtles. You marched with your best friends, Spider Stacey and Cuchulainn. You played a tin whistle and demonstrated the spirit of punk.
M Review is an online literary magazine publishing poetry, short fiction, creative nonfiction, literary criticism, visual art and photography. M Review is published throughout the year in frequent installments and is staffed by English Department students of Marylhurst University near Portland, Oregon. M Review publishes literary works from around the world with a special emphasis