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Third Point Press Third Point Press
  • Submission Guidelines
  • About
  • Masthead
  • Past Issues

Thirst

By Ania Payne Chilies  In the house behind the chili factory, the living room hung heavy with aromas of poblano, manzano, serrano, and guajillo. A deep breath tickled lungs, nostrils.…

Quantum Theophanies

By Thomas Snarsky Twins are to triplets as mirrors are to kaleidoscopes Roses & porcupines are both alive All twelve of the slave-owning presidents are dead All thirty NBA teams…

Real Ghosts

By Isabelle Correa Joe and I used to eat our lunches of jelly sandwiches and celery sticks by the pond. That was until the bird craze took over and Joe…

Mud Swallow

By Lisa M. Cole & warrior. Opening the gate, I am lost in the tide of your shimmers. As if you didn’t already know: I don’t want to stay  in…

XOXO

By Katherine Gehan At 3 am when I miss Pete most terribly, I feel my heart squeeze into a very small thing and then it just slips down, slides out…

That is rather slippery of you, Agent Starling. / How do we begin to covet, Clarice? / Have the lambs stopped screaming?

By Lindsay Lusby That is rather slippery of you, Agent Starling. When the truth is small enough to fit in your cupped hands, you chase it with a broom to…

The Day We Stopped Sound

By Kimberly Ann Southwick Donna Ferland told us at recess she remembered the Challenger disaster from when she was two. She said it was her first memory, that her mom…

Hello All

By Patrick Williams Please join me in the theatre of teeth. The play is called I'll bet "zephyr" is the first weird word you'll ever learn. It opens on our…

Building My Own World

By Anna Meister day after day. Where the alarm is a slow build I require. Where the snow doesn’t end  afterwards. Where I test all the pens, fold in  berries. Where I only…

Our Lake

By Rebecca Harrison We carried the lake with us. We packed it in boxes and mugs. My job was to fill all the spoons. My fingers were wrinkled. I smelled…

being old and vulnerable and cat mythologies

By Erin Carlyle she is not the brilliant head of anything. she sits slack and never learns. you bring her dreams fully back to their beginnings. is she a bird…

Horse Year (Finally Over)

By Emily O'Neill I went to the hooking & found the pie-maker (still smirking as Ford at the end of his bullwhip). Glad he won’t see my cut mouth from…
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