Volume 4

Mark Spitzer

Welcome Toad Nation, to the fourth Toad Suck Review, in which the concept of lost is the binding theme. A recently discovered image of the legendary poet Arthur Rimbaud, lost in Abyssinia, proudly (& in Warholian Splendor) announces what we’ve unearthed from the gone annals of literary history. Our Rimbaud feature includes the first-ever English…

Kyle Hemmings

As a little girl with eyes half-closed, as if the memory of soap bubbles would always make them burn or itch, Akira slept spooning her mother. The mother owned the only Laundromat in town on the tiny island surrounded by puffer fish, sea squab, poisonous honey toads that some claimed could sing and lure. Akira…

Holly Simonsen

One of 108 beads rolls loose / from your mala / the lost bead / — the seed syllable

Holly Simonsen

things fall / gull, / wave-tossed // sand-blasted / neck into wing

Holly Simonsen

Teal and its complement, / blood on snow / Neither is believable // But the hen!

Holly Simonsen

Your tooth against the grained earth / cut and you smell / prong(ed)(ness) lassitude // No stranger than giving birth

Brian McPherson

With a small metal scoop I moved the hot coals from the grill into the fire pit, and then grabbed a handful of kindling and threw it on top of the coals. Wisps of smoke escaped through crevasses in the pile of dried pine branches. I took off my t-shirt and used it to fan…

Owen Lucas

Down, snows! / Our garden, dark bouche, / Swallows your ferment. / Had I known your coming / Would be from darkness, / I would have left a lamp before you, / At the heel of the path.

Alex Phillips

The boss sent them, her three henchmen who wore suits and hoods and carried smart black duffel bags for their tools. When they arrived at the house in Pine Valley they removed the knobs and deadbolts from the front and back doors. Once inside they screwdrivered divots into sheetrock and knifed all the linens. They…

Christopher Linforth

In the dream she forces her fist through the lid of the coffee cup. She picks up the dented plastic disc and laughs at the personification: CAUTION. I’M HOT! I’m real, she says. Not you! I don’t know her, or the cup, but I see her sometimes on the stoop of her house, swatted like…