Her Jackie

The drawn wagon came into view of London. It was 1888 and a rampant murderer was roaming the streets; Jack the Ripper.
Helena looked over buildings covered by night and thought of this place as her home. As more people fled London, Helena was becoming acquainted. She looked upon the call girls in the night as the fog shifted over London’s dreary streets. A woman in a short, red dress addressed the driver, asking if he’d like an escort. Helena knew her brother was coming soon. This would be the woman she would suggest. She would see her Jackie soon.

Written by Kaitlin Kilgore

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I Stare at this Photograph…

…and, Believing that I May Finally Understand How Two Individuals Are Sometimes Able to Be in the Presence of Each Other and Feel Okay despite Grave Existential Differences that Would Otherwise Separate Them Entirely, Retreat Back to My Bedroom of Near-Total Darkness Where I Will Read a Book of Asemic Writing until I Fall Asleep

Richard sits beside Nicole, feeling a general sense of contentment about the direction in which his life has taken him in recent years, while Nicole, much unlike Richard, feels what could be, perhaps, a sort of absolute terror minimized only by some sense of defeat in face of everything that the universe has thrust at her so forcefully, so unapologetically, since the day she exited the comfortable innocence and naivety of a childhood without bars or insecurities and entered the cruel and confusing paralysis of adulthood, its new and, to her, somewhat senseless responsibility and aching all seemingly without end.

Written by Matt Margo

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My nose

When I was 14 I accidentally heard a woman saying behind my back, “God–– this kid wasn’t cooked long enough nor with the right recipe. He has such an ugly duckling profile.” To my horror I now discovered in my nose an obvious duckliness. For a while I almost stopped masturbating and wasted a huge amount of time investigating the configuration of my nose with the fragile hope something would improve. My nose tragically refused. I began masturbating more often, if only to distract my troubled mind. Which did the trick as I eventually lost all interest in my nose.

Written by Ed Higgins

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Another new place to get your RiverLit

Hey Spokane friends!  We just dropped off copies of RiverLit #5 and #4 last night at Boo Radley’s and Atticus.  Tell your friends, but not before you get your own copy!

Home

The fog lifted as I reached the cities edge. Like an unveiling of a prize it became viewable. I could see people milling about doing their shopping and for the first time in a long time a smile came to my face. I drove through the streets looking for the place. It was there, on the corner, the pictures had not done it justice. I pulled the car to a stop and stared. While I watched a kid came around a corner with a basketball, an old lady walking a dog crossed the street. Here it was. My new home.

Written by F. L. Hall

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Employment Opportunity with RiverLit

We’re looking for an ad sales rep!  Head on over here to read the job description.

 

Finger Prints

The window on her world showed finger prints left by the painters the previous fall.  Braced on ladders leaning against the brick wall, they raised and lowered the sash to brush in all the surfaces of the wooden frames.  Sounds and smells associated with the job filtered into the house.  Bits of conversation and fragments of news and music from their radios floated on the air.

On rainy days, the prints were barely visible.  Today, the sun poured through, clearly defining where the painters had been and what work still needed to be done as one season turned into another.

Written by Janet Yung

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A new place to buy your RiverLit

Good news!  You can now find RiverLit on the shelf at Aunties in Downtown Spokane.  Come on down and get a copy!

RiverLit #5 Release

We’d like to invite you all to come to next week’s Broken Mic at Neato Burrito.   We’ll be there with the newest issue!

Copies cost $9, $8 for contributors

The event can be found on Facebook here: http://www.facebook.com/events/226934457387755/

If you’re not on Facebook, here are the details:

Wednesday, January 25 6:30PM to 9:00PM Broken Mic is a poetry, fiction, nonfiction, and spoken word open mic. Every Wednesday we raise one heck of a ruckus celebrating words. Come, see what it’s all about. Sign up at the event it you want to read. Readers get 3 minutes on the mic. Or just enjoy the show!1 dollar PBR 1 dollar coffee 1 dollar soda 1 dollar GRILLED CHEESEAnd about our superstar features this week! The Photobooth Tour is composed of Joshua Ballard, Chris Rockwell, Spoken Word, and Shenanigans. Chris Rockwell has been performing music and poetry across the country for the past ten years. He is a two time nationally competing slam poet, and in 2006 he won the title of Grand Slam Champion of New Jersey’s LOSER SLAM team. In 2009 he was the recipient of the Largesse Publishing Award, and in 2010 was named Poet Laureate of Asbury Park. Among other publications, he has been published in the globally recognized magazine, The Idiom. His two timeless loves are Sour Jacks candy, and Marilyn Monroe. Joshua J Ballard is a writer and spoken word poet from New Jersey, a 2010 and 2011 Asbury Park Poet Laureate nominee, 2011 Grand Slam Champion of Loserslam, and member of their slam team which competed in Cambridge and Boston at National Poetry Slam in 2011 as well as New Jersey’s IWPS rep. He has been published in the internationally recognized and award winning poetry publication The Idiom Magazine, as well as The Viking News publication, has twice previously toured the country performing in slam venues, Walmart’s, bars, barbecues, coffee houses, alleys, libraries, homes, and even a winery. Joshua has two collections of poetry as well as a full length spoken word album to his credit. Oft times finding himself jogging, he usually discovers his meter through his uneven gait, attributed to a broken ankle which never did heal right.

Memoir

I was empty.  I took in everything.
I was a watcher.  I looked at everything.
I was lust.  I wanted everything.I am a machine, I process everything.
I am a light.  I shine on everything.
I am a message.  I tell you everything.

I will be a switch.  I will turn on everyone.
I will be war, I will fight for everyone.
I will be free.  I will let go of everything.

I was, I did.
I am, I do.
I will, I will
Not go another day without making

a difference.

I will never shut the door again.

Written by Emmet

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