Online #15 Fiction “Figure Eights” by Jennifer Stern “People in Hell Just Want to Spin the Big Wheel” by Mike Salisbury “The Putin Resurrections” by Ree Davis Non-fiction “The Hackamore” by Vanya Erickson “Crimping the Edge” by Arielle Silver “A Sparrow in the Wind” by Christine Holmstrom Poetry “The Same Thing” by John Sibley Williams…

Gulf Stream’s Editor-in-Chief, Miguel Pichardo, sat down to talk craft, conspiracy, and staying versatile with Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor, creators of the delightfully strange and insanely popular Welcome to Night Vale podcast. Set in the surreal desert town of Night Vale, the podcast is a local radio show where a silky-voiced host keeps listeners…

Upstairs, past midnight, when the pager quiets and the hallway lights are dimmed and the nurses’ stations take on the hush of night, Yael—my Yael—comes to visit.  She’s in her scrubs, and tiny biceps protrude from her short sleeves.  We’re up on the top floor of the hospital where the couches are arranged in pods…

Dad was infamous for the “jobs” he created for us on weekends, vacations, or any time there was a spare moment, especially if he heard giggling. Back then I thought nothing of these tasks: sharpening knives and tool blades with a massive kick-wheel whetstone; watering an acre of five-gallon saplings with a weak hose in…

Wolves flank the  scattered  few  who can’t keep up  with  migration while the rest continue westward as if nothing had been taken from them.  Then  there  are  horses  refusing  to  save   themselves   from stable  fire.  By   the  river,  a  family  divvies  up  ashes.  At  home,  a family  forgets  where  it  put  them….

Up and at ‘em like the morning wood, septuagenarian pig fuck. Make cocksure you’ve fastened oxygen mask to crotch. Digital age air aims bazookas at bravado. Wouldn’t want your slimy bullfrogs rotting off. Feed me another McProverb, Top Dog, artisanal chicken nugget baked in gold glitter. I need reassurance my next blackout will fuck me…

I needed a home so I came to the city near the Gulf, to the clean little apartment with the pullout bed— for the first days it rained hard and I felt uneasy, my brain triggered the neurological pathways most familiar: endings, grief, and sorrow. At night I strolled the beach, impressed that I could…