Mary Margaret Park

“The New Working Class Poor” by Mary Margaret Park sucking up futures with slot machine wiles pop go the weasels with painted on smiles our congress sold out to big bidders in suits we’re choking and gasping our heads in their noose keepers of fortunes that we’ll never know purveyors of privilege and grifters of [...]

Anna stepped back from the mirror. Slender and well kept, she looked pretty good for a woman pushing forty. She thought so anyway. Her husband Frank didn’t seem to notice one way or the other, even though she’d tried to get him to—oh yes—she had. Several years ago, she’d gotten down to an anorexic size [...]

A series of fog draped garages and sheds lined the perimeter. John involuntarily slowed at each gap between them; his heart beating viciously. He heard the loud bang of tin garbage cans being knocked over followed by the sound of feet skittering. He quickened his pace and arrived at the end of the alley. The [...]

What’s wrong with hardcore sexuality? I mean, when I write Devil’z Hide, I don’t gloss over what it is to be human, I try to tell the truth, and understand that it is in our nature to be many things, both beautiful and ugly. We engage in a complex balancing act each and every day, [...]

She was in a daze, sick to her stomach—Rose rolled over and buried her head beneath the covers—the afternoon sun kept poking through the blinds, a reminder that productive people didn’t stay in bed all day, a reminder that they got out and worked, and didn’t spend the whole day hiding, afraid to come out. [...]

In the middle of reviewing prototype-printings for upcoming North-American book-releases; among this batch are proto-demos from the [Devil’z Hide] (DH) serials. With so many test-market trials and errors behind us, we’re basically baffled by how outstanding our current moment in production is going. Always seeming so stressful in the early stages (mostly after going from [...]

I dreamt redemption; a faraway landscape where the novelties of human existence are but a passing lane in traffic; a linear tastes testing circuit where nothing but all things welcome are permitted without quandary. I dreamt redemption in a time when all things stopped, and I couldn’t dream anymore. I felt redemption when I slept [...]