Issue started to appear online on March 1st.
Issue 7:3 (starting in May) is about food, and we'll begin reading for it soon.
Issue 8:1 (starting in August) is about celebrity.
Now Reading for Volume 7: Issue 2.
Submit poems (between 2-10) and photos or artwork (1-5) on any subject to us here.
Issue started to appear online on March 1st.
Issue started to appear online on March 1st.
Chapbook Contest Cancelled.
Our chapbook contest has been cancelled. We're very embarrassed, and apologize to those who have come to this space for submission information. All money that was submitted by entrants is being returned by Submishmash. If there are any problems, please email us immediately.
The editor,
RBR
The editor,
RBR
Untitled 23 • Jeff Foster
[+]
Doing art/photography since 2000, self taught. Influenced by Bosch, Saudek, Darger. On display in galleries in Missouri and Kansas. Runs a custodial business. More art can be seen at www.seclusionimagery.com.
Weather Updated on the 8s • Ben Nardolilli
The hurricane is coming, or else
It is already here,
I am not sure when hurricanes
Introduce themselves,
Which I assume they must do,
Since we have given them names.
[+]
It is already here,
I am not sure when hurricanes
Introduce themselves,
Which I assume they must do,
Since we have given them names.
[+]
Ben Nardolilli currently lives in Arlington, Virginia. His work has appeared in Perigee Magazine, Red Fez, One Ghana One Voice, Caper Literary Journal, Quail Bell Magazine, Elimae, fwriction, Grey Sparrow Journal, Pear Noir, Rabbit Catastrophe Review, and Yes Poetry.
Coffee So Far • Stella Vinitchi Radulescu
Coffee so far a hand rolling time
like a thick Russian
cigar
fingers move along a wooden table but
in another version stillness was the word
of the month
August—
do angels smell like tears?
like a thick Russian
cigar
fingers move along a wooden table but
in another version stillness was the word
of the month
August—
do angels smell like tears?
[+]
Stella Vinitchi Radulescu is the author of Insomnia in Flowers (2008) and All Seeds & Blues (2011), Her poems have appeared in Laurel Review, Asheville Poetry Review, Seneca Review, Pleiades, Louisville
Review, Spoon River Poetry Review, and others.
Welcome to Montana • Nels Hanson
Snow-streaked scarps north and east
hold the valley under the Big Sky,
yellow plain cut blue by curving
river like a trail. The basin filled
with morning light and gilded ice
on the far peaks makes a portrait,
“Western Vista,” doorway back
to Eden. The land was once a lake,
V’s of duck and Canadian geese
planing down in mile-long lines,
vanished sentences across a virgin
sky. Buffalo-hide teepees painted red
and orange, suns and moons, cluster
where again spires rise, cooking fires
and smoking racks. Gaze just right
you’ll see them move, gesturing
in deerskin, tall eagle feathers, before
white eyes burn them and they disappear.
hold the valley under the Big Sky,
yellow plain cut blue by curving
river like a trail. The basin filled
with morning light and gilded ice
on the far peaks makes a portrait,
“Western Vista,” doorway back
to Eden. The land was once a lake,
V’s of duck and Canadian geese
planing down in mile-long lines,
vanished sentences across a virgin
sky. Buffalo-hide teepees painted red
and orange, suns and moons, cluster
where again spires rise, cooking fires
and smoking racks. Gaze just right
you’ll see them move, gesturing
in deerskin, tall eagle feathers, before
white eyes burn them and they disappear.
[+]
Nels Hanson's fiction received the San Francisco Foundation’s James D. Phelan Award and stories have appeared in Antioch Review, Texas Review, Black Warrior Review, Southeast Review, Montreal Review, and other journals. Poems have appeared in Big Moon, Language and Culture, Angelfire, Symmetry Pebbles.
The Relic • Robert W. King
Today someone has come unbuttoned, I see
by my foot on the sidewalk, a small face,
eyes and a two-hole mouth set into stone.
When I pick it six feet up into the air
I discover its design, white ripples
with brown streaks, a crescent of black.
Now I have two problems, one to imagine
what elaboration this button matched
which I can’t. The second problem—what now?—
has three answers: put it down where it was,
or toss it secretly off, perhaps under
that bush where it might never be found,
or, and because I’ve thought this long about it,
this is what I do: pocket it myself,
promising never to let it fall away again.
It’s not what I have lost in my life
but today I take it gladly as if
something, finally, has been returned.
by my foot on the sidewalk, a small face,
eyes and a two-hole mouth set into stone.
When I pick it six feet up into the air
I discover its design, white ripples
with brown streaks, a crescent of black.
Now I have two problems, one to imagine
what elaboration this button matched
which I can’t. The second problem—what now?—
has three answers: put it down where it was,
or toss it secretly off, perhaps under
that bush where it might never be found,
or, and because I’ve thought this long about it,
this is what I do: pocket it myself,
promising never to let it fall away again.
It’s not what I have lost in my life
but today I take it gladly as if
something, finally, has been returned.
[+]
Robert King’s first book, Old Man Laughing (Ghost Road Press), was a finalist for the 2008 Colorado Book Award in Poetry and he recently won the Grayson Books Chapbook Competition with Rodin & Co. He lives in Greeley, Colorado.
Everything is Used • Corey Mesler
Everything is second-
hand. The teakettle, the
Kesey novel, the towels
with their frayed edges.
What we say to the dog.
The air around us, the
way we bend to it.
The house, the car, the
key to the door
we have not yet found.
Everything is used. Every-
thing is second-hand.
The rug we lay down for
invited guests. The
stereo, the lab equipment.
Our final words, the ones
saved for being saved, the
supplication to our used God.
hand. The teakettle, the
Kesey novel, the towels
with their frayed edges.
What we say to the dog.
The air around us, the
way we bend to it.
The house, the car, the
key to the door
we have not yet found.
Everything is used. Every-
thing is second-hand.
The rug we lay down for
invited guests. The
stereo, the lab equipment.
Our final words, the ones
saved for being saved, the
supplication to our used God.
[+]
Corey Mesler is the author of We Are Billion-Year-Old Carbon, Following Richard Brautigan, and several other books. With his wife, he runs Burke’s Book Store in Memphis
TN, one of the country’s oldest (1875) and best independent bookstores.
Minimally at Best • Mercedes Lawry
Fiction, short and shorter.
From phrase to word, now
idiot letters on the fly.
Pure thought struck through
with mathematics, glib
but practical. Rumor
was in exile with servants.
It was far from punishment
as things at home fell to dust.
From phrase to word, now
idiot letters on the fly.
Pure thought struck through
with mathematics, glib
but practical. Rumor
was in exile with servants.
It was far from punishment
as things at home fell to dust.
[+]
Mercedes Lawry has published her work in Poetry, Rhino, Puerto del Sol, Folio, New Madrid, Seattle Review, and Nimrod. Her chapbook “There are Crows in My Blood” was published by Pudding House in 2007 and her chapbook, “Happy Darkness” was released by Finishing Line Press this past summer.
Red Booth Review • Volume 7: Issue 1.
Poetry
Eight Miles • B.Z. Niditch
Supermarket • Shannon Cuthbert
Still Life with Grapes • Howie Good
Faith, Stronger Than Water • Alan S. Kleiman
Tough Love • Jeffrey Park
Porterhouse Words • Ed McCourt
Two Poems • Neal Whitman
Photos
Two Photos • Winston Thule
Okaymuseum • Eleanor Bennett
Canyon #4 • Michelle Sandeen
 |
| by Winston Thule |
Supermarket • Shannon Cuthbert
Still Life with Grapes • Howie Good
Faith, Stronger Than Water • Alan S. Kleiman
Tough Love • Jeffrey Park
Porterhouse Words • Ed McCourt
Two Poems • Neal Whitman
Photos
Two Photos • Winston Thule
Okaymuseum • Eleanor Bennett
Canyon #4 • Michelle Sandeen
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