Gulf Coast Online Exclusives


The Heat of Dar es Salaam

Nadia Owusu

On the day I was born, the air was a supple stew—heavy with overripe fruit and armpits, ocean salt, and slow-roasted goat meat. Of course, I don’t remember that day, but I was born in the Tanzanian city of Dar es Salaam—just ‘Dar’ to the locals—and the viscosity of the air is the first thing that visitors remark on. It is what they remember most.


Poetry, Fiction, & Nonfiction   

The Lord's Earth

Callie Collins

The whole town of Garland sweltered and glistened. There was fog for months that fall, and the sun hung behind it round and shining like the moon or a piece of fruit. It was hard for Roger to stick around, so he didn’t. Then, after some years, men came to his door.

Playing Kong

Kerry Neville

You know where this is going: Danny lives across the street, house number 32-25 to my 32-26, and he is eight years to my seven;

Playing Kong

Kerry Neville

You know where this is going: Danny lives across the street, house number 32-25 to my 32-26, and he is eight years to my seven;

Two Transactions

Carmen Petaccio

He stared down the neck of the guitar like a rifle sight. The shelves in the glass case between us were lined with switchblades, laptops, engagement rings and arrowheads. A small fan on the counter blew only on the clerk. BEWARE: GUARD FERRETS, said a sign taped to the side of the register.

From the Archives

2 Poems

Paúl Puma, transl. by Jonathan Simkins

You return, at last. / At the edge no longer./ At the margin’s curve no longer. / Circular no longer. / In the embers of unfading foam. / The sputum of inscrutable lava.

If I Were the Moon, I Know Where I Would Fall Down

Melissa Barrett

In the caked oak tracts of the thumbed / dim chalkboard, behind the easel tipping paler / continents further / north, toward the gloss of April...

Geo Tracker

Jono Tosch

It was a relatively inexpensive truck, and suburban parents could both afford it (or payments on it) and teens, if they were paying for the gas from their allowance, could afford the gas...

Aquamarine

Valerie Duff

Through persimmon curtains, she slept away her infancy. / Waves specked the day-bed where she dreamt / her mother’s best…

From the Blog

Strategies of Art Making

A friend in England asked me just recently whether I thought her work had become too much like 'the last cry of a dinosaur.' I thought not, but it made…

I Hate a Rainy Night

Thursday, August 24, 2017 Hurricane preparation begins with a conversation about a small claims court case involving a batch of botched edible underwear.…