Tag: thin air
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Driving to Colorado by Elias Sorich
Driving to Colorado Clouds draped down a bare field, trails of mist sloping, stingers of a jellyfish.
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Three Poems by Savannah Slone
Field Notes on Becoming Yourself pluck fallopian foxgloves from your diseased roots egg trek cardiac harvest wear insects as rings, arthropod legs caging each digit around your neck, trilobites rusty toenails scratch off achilles blisters stack blocks with your beet stained gums pick suckers from your armpits swallow them whole: deer ticks, your aphrodisiac palpitate your inner…
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Three Poems by Jenny Liu
white picket fences alternatively unstrangers 1. it was the way his wrinkled old hands trembled over the picture of his kids in his wallet. made me wonder how many battles he fought with the bill and the bottle. to go home to a car and a fence and to kiss his beautiful wife with tainted…
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An Excerpt from “Medium Warp,” by Mike Oliphant, our 2018 Gas Station Winner
Conditional Ascension in JavaScript if (condition1) { block of code to be executed if condition1 is true } else if (condition2) { block of code to be executed if the condition1 is false and condition2 is true } else { block of code to be executed if the condition1 is false and condition2 is false…
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Indebted to Our Digitality: an Interview with Mike Oliphant
By Jamie Shrewsbury In our most recent issue, we hosted the Gas Station Prize, celebrating and seeking out hybrid forms. The contest’s winner, Mike Oliphant’s “Medium Warp: Excerpt’s of a Digital Consciousness,” inhabits shapes and forms present in code and web landscapes to explore the boundaries and relationships present in a digital consciousness.
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An Interview with Todd Robert Petersen
The wheel of fortune is one of the most well-known images of fate. This wheel spins randomly, setting the course of destiny for the people and events it controls. Northern Arizona University graduate and Thin Air founder Todd Robert Petersen’s It Needs to Look Like We Tried takes the idea of the wheel of fortune…
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Worry Bone, by Hans Hetrick
Worry Bone Always shaking my tree Always rattling my bones Stirs up the natives tending my temple grooming my home They get no peace They never feel at home Worry bone preaches doom on every street He’s a guest on every show Thinks God burnt trifles into stone Swears disaster lurks ravenous behind every promising…
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2018 Gas Station Winners
We are thrilled to announce Sarah Minor’s (read her recent interview here) picks for our new Gas Station Prize. For the inaugural contest, we asked people to send us hybrid work, or work that didn’t fall neatly into one genre or another. Below are the first-, second-, and third-place winners, with some of Sarah’s thoughts on each piece.…
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Three poems by Jon Pierce
1 of 0 if you read this as if you read this as if you read this as if you read this as if you read this as if you read this as Doom Abaca, dead; a cab, a decade fagged, a hijacked lima bean, an opal ‘q,’ ransomed; a strumpet, and…
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Dear Watcher, by Jenn Powers
Dear Watcher, 1 Be calm. Categorize by level of threat. File by style. A red jagged letter needles my skin. Tell myself this is a joke. Linger in the hallway after school. Back pressed against the lockers. Look left. Look right. Wait for the invisible man who hides like sin and speaks like fire. Why…
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