Welcome to Maryland Literary Review. Nice to “meet” you. A pleasure, really.
What the hell am I supposed to say here? Editorial introductions are inherently awkward and ungainly. I don’t know…A few mumbling words about us? We are a Libra. We like words and ideas, also stories. We appear twice a year. Our favorite color is an off-red. We like to garden, cook, and take long walks in the woods. We believe sunsets can be a bit over-rated.
Sorry, let’s start over. We apologize for our wobbly hands. This marks the first issue of our existence, so we fret about first impressions.
Like livestock, we walk the steel maze
to our impersonal deaths, admit design
is a murderer; there is no exit that doesn’t
reduce us to beast, just our bodies’ meat
dragging us down. Afraid of your dwindle
toward dotage, I want longevity like
the Laysan albatross. Her courtship spans
nearly a decade before ... Read More
Home, boy / Home, boy / Everybody needs a home.
– Iggy Pop
The very rich may differ from the non-rich, as F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote in a short story, and not just because they have more money, as Ernest Hemingway wrote in a story of his own. The very poor differ from the non-poor, ... Read More
Pamela Murray Winters’ first full-length collection of poetry, The Unbeckonable Bird, was published by FutureCycle Press in 2018. Her poems have appeared in Fledgling Rag, Gargoyle, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, The Gettysburg Review, Beltway Poetry, and numerous other journals and anthologies. She received an MFA in poetry from Vermont College of Fine Arts and was awarded ... Read More
The sidewalk is sterilized white.
I could eat off its sunlight.
People creep along it like spiders
who could shrink in the heat, leave
this world without their dark webs
I watch this from a window
in an air-conditioned room, a screen
in front of me telling me who is dead,
from bombs, from guns, knives, stars.
I don't ... Read More
Down to the rotting
forest floor, little shocks
of sun, panty-pink,
slip below crowns
of simple-leaved trees.
Green ousts peach,
claiming branches. Layers
of duff drift beneath trees’
under the dieback,
witches’ broom, sad trinity
of cloud, tree, cloud.
A filth fly passes through
the low charnel house
... Read More
On Saturday morning, 12/21/63, a date with no prime number unless you count the 2 in 12, the 2 in 21, or the 3 in 63, Richie, my thirteen year old brother, and I, at age eleven, acting on our instinctual understanding of the privilege of seniority as our parents corralled us into the back of their Ford Falcon, ... Read More
When my wife of these last thirty-nine years kicked me out of the house and I quoth "for being a dipshit" the week before the fourth of July, I holed up in a little camper on the other side of town just so I wouldn't have to lay eyes on the heifer. "What's wrong with you?" she demanded to ... Read More
The Liars’ Asylum by Jacob Appel
Reviewed by Charles Rammelkamp
“The Liars’ Asylum”
Black Lawrence Press, 2017
16.95, 180 pages
The eight stories that make up Jacob Appel’s The Liars’ Asylum are like eight episodes of Seinfeld on steroids, zany plots involving feckless characters whose motives are never so pure, often questionable. All ... Read More
March 14, 1983
Dear Sir or Madam:
Forgive the vague salutation. I could not determine the current president of the IBTC, so I am hoping this letter reaches the correct party.
I want to share with you the story of my grandmother, who would have been a staunch supporter, probably a ... Read More