EastWesterly Review Home -- Blog -- EastWesterly Review -- Take2 -- Martin Fan Bureau -- Fonts a Go-Go -- Games -- Film Project -- Villagers -- Graveyard
Custom Search



39 | 38 | 37 | 36 | 35
34 | 33 | 32 | 31 | 30
29 | 28 | 27 | 26 | 25
24 | 23 | 22 | 21 | 20
19 | 18 | 17 | 16 | 15
14 | 13 | 12 | 11 | 10
9 | 8 | 7 | 6 | 5
4 | 3 | 2 | 1

Annual Conferences

24th | 23rd | 22nd | 21st | 20th
19th | 18th | 17th | 16th | 15th
14th | 13th | 12th | 11th | 10th
9th | 8th | 7th

Foundling Theory Fund

Letters from the editor

Submit your article


help support us -- shop through this Amazon link!

Creative Commons License

This work is licensed
under a Creative Commons
4.0 International License

Postmodern Village
est. 1999
e-mail * terms * privacy

Why I Don't Write Ebooks
by Tabitha Carlson

A found poem compiled from random lines at wattpad.com. Lines may be extracted from a work in progress. Any errors are made by the original author.

I am a girl, so these sections will probably involve mostly girl things because I am not able to really connect with guys. I'm thirteen (I think) and also the god of shadows. My father does not care for me any longer after marrying Agatha, who is usually sleeping and wastes all of our money in hair and nail salons, in makeup or buying anti-aging products.

Sitting in the parking lot at prom and reading? Unknown: You look so cute reading. I've tried pills, and they're useless. I lost my girlfriend, my seat, and now I was going to fail math. Brent had his hands up one of the school sluts shirt. Friend, if you know how to make these feelings go away, let me know, I just want to stop caring so much for someone who doesn't even acknowledge the fact that I exist.

We both laughed together, remembering how much of a terrible drunk my husband had been. My family was dead, and this woman was proof. I sniffed at my clothes which emitted a musty odor with undertones of Cabernet and olives. Red velvet pancakes make me cry. When I was a little girl, three people were murdered in Lanfore.

He was chewing the inside of his cheek, the way he always did when we were in public and he couldn't tell at me. The idea of this hulking man having once been a dependent child didn’t fit. The hardness of him seemed strangely softened. And Lance is already a class 5 Pyrokinetic, the highest rate one could rank based on their abilities. No matter who this man is, or what he wants you to do, the second you get in this car, you do everything he tells you to do. No way in hell was I gonna be bitten by a full blooded vampire who is a complete stranger to me at a dark, smelly alley with a probably dead girl lying.

Lilly is my chestnut Clydesdale cross thoroughbred mare and Kahuna is my dad's Roan Clydesdale cross thoroughbred gelding. I dug a hole under one of my favorite apple trees and buried the pony, making sure to press the earth down deep so it wasn't disturbed.

I wish I could take that stupid song and cover it in gasoline and take a torch to it. Worrying about the little children whose classrooms are just beside the burning office. And I'll be getting payed fuck all.