Stolen Island (Vol. 2)

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Just in time for summer reading, and after another great year of writing at the University of Maine, we are happy to announce  this year’s volume of Stolen Island has arrived and is on its way to contributors. Many thanks to those on our pages, those who came to our reception on May 10, and faculty advisors Jennifer Moxley, David Kress, and Greg Howard.

Please be in touch with us at stolen.island@umit.maine.edu if you’re interested in receiving a copy.

Contributors: Kristy Bowen, Ariel Berry, Denise Bickford, Chris Maliga, Jess Rowan, Joseph Massey, Amina Cain, Devin Johnston, Jacob Kempfert, Jeanne Marie Beaumont, James Brophy, David Bartone, Jeff Downey, Sadie Jane Fenton, Jason Canniff, Charles Blackstone, Cathy Eisenhower, Katie Lattari, Tony Trigilio, Kevin Cook, Edward Desautels, Rose W. Hart, Kate Ostler, David Trinidad, Jasmine Dreame Wagner, Kevin Killian, Dimitri Anastasopoulos, Jessica Harris, Aaron Pinnix, Maurice Burford, Sarah Cook, Andi Olsen, Davis Schneiderman, P. Inman, Julian Talamantez Brolaski, Benjamin Friedlander, Franklin Bruno, Page Hill Starzinger, Andy Graff, Jessica Holz, B.K. Fischer, Jason Mitchell, Emily Kohler, Aleksandra Swatek, Elizabeth Maliga, Meghan L. Dowling, Megan Kaminski, and interviews with Lily Hoang, Joanna Howard and Matvei Yankelevich

-Katie Fuller & Cory Robertson, Editors

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photos: k.f.

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Flash Fiction/Poetry Remix

New writing in the post-Valentine’s Day haze—Rose Groves’ flash fiction piece “To The Boy In the Jacket with The Pins,” and Sarah Cook’s poetic remix of it, “Hello, the name of this segment is a joke mid-leap, or rather”

To The Boy In The Jacket With The Pins

I loved you first back when we were in high school; you were a pervasive phantom, a platonic ideal that lighted from time to time in the bodies of real boys, a kind of mobile misery that loved particular concrete staples of reality: Sharpies and Converse the primary targets. I heard once that tornadoes will open locked trunks, take out the contents, and leave them still-folded in a field a hundred yards away. This seems to be a kind of tornado in-joke, just as you seem to like the same three or four pieces of clothing on any body you inhabit: the tattered Queen shirt, the black jeans with the rip on the knee, the dual wristbands; you’re a ghost with a sense of humor. The cigarette dangling from the lower lip. The pocketknife. The half-dead bookbag covered in patches and badges.

When you light in a body, you destroy it. So far: one suicide, one brain-killing overdose, one still-ongoing arc that I leaped from when I realized (I expect a phone call any day now, honestly) and you, my love. When you go I am not sure I will have the stomach for you next time; I get so attached to the bodies, even though I know you will be back, though I know you will be the same as you always are. I recognize you behind every face, and you make it so easy, too: same battered canvas jacket with a HELLO MY NAME IS sticker peeling off the breast pocket. Hello. It’s been a while.

Hello, the name of this segment is a joke mid-leap, or rather

    frafter R.G. & A.S.

you, pins and needles, turning around more than once,
a joke that inhabits your body by folding itself
into small mouths dangling, like keys—
this one is a kind of wristband
this one locks the door right around your chest

like two people interacting through patches of concrete

music tends to be a pervasive lost home,
la la la, i’d pour my body into something
real, swimming, a legitimate boy-body mold

like two phantoms attached at the hip
like somebody, any body, peeling days off of them

the platonic asylum of your own experience:
the lock is the boy body in conversion;
the folding, a tornado i once ignored.

i am not actually sure
if i can stomach
the arc of your face
when the arc
is the shape of already waiting
and my stomach is leaping, in particular

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photo: k.f.

THE REAL WORLD: WAR

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Our “flash” series continues with a new piece of fiction by Katie Lattari, an alumna of the M.A. in English program at UMaine, current fiction M.F.A. student at Notre Dame, and former Stolen Island editor:

THE REAL WORLD: WAR

“Usually we cast only one true bitch, one true douche bag per season. Every one of them is a bitch or a douche bag this time around.” – Bunim & Murray

Heyy bitchessssss — I’m the Messenian War, I’m 2,755 years old and I’m into S &M. I pitted Messenia against Sparta because that’s how I fucking roll. Sparta needed to be tested. That’s their fucking thing. Fighting. Struggling. Pain. Hard muscles. Dicks. So I said fine. I said OK, Acheans. OK Dorians. Have the fuck at it. I prolonged that shit 20 years. I’m into withholding, if you haven’t caught on. I intend to coddle cocks and vaj’s in a similar way during the show this season. Sparta won. Messenia depopulated. Vacant. Void. I did that. Get in my V.

It is my pleasure to be here. Let me say hello to you. I’m the Conquest of Shu by Wei. I have 1,743 years. I am a rupture in the equilibrium. Nothing is good enough for me. Not even a Three Kingdoms Period. I mean, Three Kingdoms. It is not enough. It was never enough. I have very high standards and ease makes me uneasy. My boyfriends accuse me of purposefully causing conflict just when things get comfortable. They resent me for it. I self-sabotage, they say. But I bring them the Jin Dynasty. They just bring me and bring me gin. To quiet me and make me stop. Make me stop.

Ya ya ya ya ya – I’m about to say my thing. Let me say my thing. Are we rolling? Yea. OK. Roll it. Uh, hello, yes, they call me the War of the Sicilian Vespers but don’t believe everything you hear, OK? Haha, that’s a joke. I start things with insurrections, technically – more like erections, ifyouknowhatImean! Ho! Nah nah but listen. I am a robust 730 years old. Old enough to know what I’m doing, ifyougetmydrift! I split the difference. I split differences. The differences are split. French Kings, the Papacy. Rich stuff. Classy. Cultured. And then the kings of Aragon over here. Noble. Old. Respected. Like gloss v papyrus or something. They got their peace. Of Caltabellotta. I can give you yours, Messenian. Let me give you yours, Conquest of Shu. I aim to please. Continue reading

Welcome to Stolen Island (2013)

ImageAfter perusing the archives, contemplating our vision, and crafting our call for submissions, we are ready to put ourselves out there as Stolen Island 2013, this year’s manifestation of the University of Maine’s graduate literary magazine. Previously known as the Stolen Island Review, the publication’s 2012 editors, Brad Beauregard and Jason Canniff, decided to pare down the title to Stolen Island to signify a fresh outlook and an expanding dialogue with literary communities beyond our own (see a stack of their final product in the above photo by Liz Maliga). While we may be chronologically closer to last year’s team (we even decided to continue using Jason Mitchell’s snappy drawing of a radio, which graced last year’s cover, as our social media icon) we also feel a connection with the magazine’s history of more than fifteen years, which is why we began by visiting the university library’s Special Collections (or as Katie would say, the library’s holy grail, home to many original poetry-related documents, including the work of one of both Katie and Cory’s favorite poets, Denise Levertov) to look through old Stolen Island Review issues and by corresponding and conversing with the Stolen Island Review’s founding faculty advisor, Terry Crouch.

Balancing concerns of design and content has already proven more complicated than anticipated. How do we account for both the contemporary nature of the day (the same impulse that keeps the University of Maine’s New Writing Series so vital) and the traditions of the past? This is something that will continue to weigh on our minds in the coming months. For now, we are ready to put on our editing hats, begin chasing down prose, poems, and artwork, and see what takes form.

-Stolen Island editors Cory Robertson and Katie Fuller