Tuesday, October 6, 2009


Marcus Whale

Cole Mohr and I stare into the cake, fully clothed. Does he even eat anymore?

"I can't wait to get into this," says Cole Mohr.

"But, I need some music to put me into the mood."

I put on some Melt-Banana and his eyes fire outwards. He takes off his shirt. I wish I were Japanese.

I ask him about his tattoo, but he's still staring at the cake. The icing has melted slightly over the course of the past two hours, so the pink and white have begun to mesh.

I slide a knife through the cake and offer him a piece. Quietly, Cole Mohr slips one skinny finger over the icing. He's shivering. He places the finger in his mouth.

"Oh my god." At this point his eyes are closed, and his face explodes into tics. He opens them curtly and jogs to the bathroom.

I follow him in and find the floor covered in red thread. His throat expands with every propulsion. Skin straps tighter against his ribs. His lips try to form words, but they’re stiffening, engorged. I move to the telephone to call an ambulance. I fumble the keys and give them all the wrong directions.

The thread snakes its way around my feet. I pick up one end and pull as hard as I can. The rest of the thread bundles into the hallway and Cole Mohr crawls out, panting.

I walk into the kitchen, cut the cake and place the pieces in a plastic container. Cole Mohr grabs the edge of my shirt and licks my lips. They’re white and pink.

Marcus Whale almost only writes at gloveandcradle.blogspot.com, at least until the name starts to seem lame. He lives in Sydney, Australia.

Saturday, September 12, 2009


Lina McCausland

I thought I had escaped it like a missed call from a telemarketer
who tells me that my car insurance expired yesterday and Oh My, Excuse Me, Ma’am,
if You Don’t Renew Your Car Insurance With Us Right Away You Might Lose Your
License to Drive
but I hadn’t missed his call, I answered on accident and now I have to go back
and relive it all all all all over again.
I couldn’t say it for a few months after, I only said grapes. now, when I eat grapes, I
think about it.

Lina McCausland sent this poem in under an alias. She has no bio.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Raymond Carver

Raymond Carver
Maury Feinsilber

I sit and eat candy that tastes like old books

Honest to God

They’re Russell Stover

Hard candies

That I like to crunch

While sitting with the Internet

Looking at pictures of

Raymond Carver’s grave

Maury Feinsilber's work has appeared in The Missouri Review. He lives in Brooklyn, USA

Tuesday, September 8, 2009


Ben-Darrow Goodman

Shanghai Dawn has new eyes
brightest bulbs are breaking open
In prying yellow lines

Shanghai Dawn a heavy sun
moves marching feet through open gates
In hurried blurring runs

Shanghai Dawn has stories left to Tell
from far off homes we wash ashore
As scattered shattered shells

Ben-Darrow Goodman is from Delray Beach, Florida, born in Philadelphia. He currently likes moondogs, dubstep, and dads.

Monday, September 7, 2009

submission guidelines

hey so:

planet dad press accepts manuscripts year-round right now

we ask that they be 16-30 pages in length

see the parents, people, presses and mags we like for the kind of material we're interested in

the daily dad tries to publish short/flash fiction or poetry daily or something

there aren't really any guidelines

email planetdadsubs@gmail.com with "_________ submission" (either planet dad press or the daily dad) as the subject line, then if you are submitting to planet dad please attach your submission in either a .doc or .rtf format, and if you are submitting to the daily dad please paste your submission in the body of your submission

thanks bros