[RCR#10 is] wandering [into the] chthonic negativezone [over the] ridge, eating [a] live [bat out of a coffee] cup.
Poetry by John James, Chumki Sharma, Ben Sloan
Fiction by JW Burns, Christine Hamm, Alex Miller
Art by Sam Cooper
From JW Burn's "Butt Crack"
"Deciding one end is as good as the other end or the middle, I bid cousin and companion a fond farewell, secured my vehicle, frisked my soul for the exuberant pioneer spirit that brought my family to Florida lo these five generations ago, set out properly backpacked and unvarnished for a trek along the daffy depression. This is Florida so already the commercial nuttiness was in place. Mingling with the sightseers, vendors compulsed over their wares, mostly food or drink or cheap crack-related keepsakes—however, other elements were represented as well, clowns, mimes, lunatics, logic-slashers, stuck-in-the-groove delight addicts deep in their rotating trip, all these and regular folk, too.
Hardly had I started when a fortuneteller attached herself to my side, clutching a small slab of shiny obsidian in one hand and a wiggly grey worm in the other. She offered to tell me the future for free. I stopped walking. Opening her hand the worm fell onto her palm where she slit the hapless wiggler in half longways in the time it took me to blink twice. One glimpse and she was off in a segmented monotone concerning Mozart, red carpets, sentient yellow eggs with split personalities, jaundiced technique in classical ballet as well as several asides implicating supernatural forces in recent newsworthy events around the world, her filibuster punctuated by noxious little leaps and pointing fingers. I walked on. She erupted in a screech, pounded the ground with her feet before squatting, raising her long skirt, urinating, gathering up fingerpinches of urine-soaked earth and flinging same in my direction. Getting into the swing of things, I blew her an elaborately pugnacious kiss before continuing on."