Punk Monk Press/Magazine

Hey lovelies!  The response to our rebranding has been AMAZING. We're delighted to curate daring, darling works of fiction, poetry, nonfiction, music, and more!  This effervescent editor is soon starting school, thus adjusting our publication sched/response times. We'll be publishing more randomly/less frequently over these next few months. All print publications will be suspended until further notice. (Keep an eye out- exciting changes forthcoming!)  We've been proud of supplying rapid response rates. From now on, please expect response times to lengthen to weeks and possibly into months. If you're feeling itchy after four months, get in touch with us! Read our full guidelines here .  ALSO! *drumroll*  Volunteer Positions are OPEN for the Fall!!!  Open positions/how to apply below. Please note: Volunteer positions are now filled until further notice!  CALL FOR VOLUNTEERS!!! Role: Social Media Assistant  Description:  (We say "social media", but really, it'

  "Cloud Whisperer started life in many forms: a sketch from a figure drawing session I had squirrelled away for years, a gessoed wood panelled fished out of the "free stuff" box at work, and various kinds of ink and paint. I submitted her to the accession at a local gallery, but she was sent home to me, and I decided this is where she belongs. She lives in my kitchen now, and her image has been proudly posted to my socials."- Robyn MacKinnon

The Things Wrong With Me or The Reasons Any Man Will Leave Me or The Reasons He Left or The Reasons He Told Himself to Leave or What He Came Up With After A Few Weeks Of Being Asked For At Least One Reason or Reasons To Hate Me or Things I Should Apologize For or Things I Should Have Apologized For In Advance or Why I Make A Horrible Wife by Christina M. Rau   1. The Television Problem  I never saw The Wire. We watched Game of Thrones, caught up and then watched it because that other couple was watching it. We binged Breaking Bad. The episode with the fly was his least favorite and my most. He asked, What do we watch next? He said, There’s so much to catch up on. He said we should watch True Detective. I told him he wouldn’t like it; they talk a lot. He said we should watch True Detective. We watched. We didn’t understand it. I fell asleep on the spike mat on the floor as he complained that it was too slow and said they talked a lot. He said we should watch The Walking Dead. That other

We waited out the daylight in your bedroom, which wasn’t a bedroom. Really, it was a storage nook—someplace a wealthier family might have kept off-season sports equipment, boxes of Christmas tree decorations, extra leaves for the dining room table. And there wasn’t a bed either, just your couch made up with a child’s blankets, your clothes in garbage bags, your small CD player with its anguished screaming, paper thin guitars, inaudible drums. And beyond this there was nothing in that room except us—some 10 or maybe 15 people—and the warm murmurs of our voices slurring innuendoes and inside jokes that had been said and re-said so many times that their meaning, if any, had long since drained away, so that all that remained was the vowel sounds, the ritual, the insistence there was something that belonged to us. So much is blurry now, between the years and the drink, but I remember the bodies—our bodies—pressed against one another in that confined space, sweating against one another in th

  -- Erin Hoffman

 Best  When I saw the name on the taco bag, I hit a mailbox and tumbled off my bike. No tacos fell out, but I did scrape my knee.  One knock, two knocks, three.  My brand-new boyfriend has been hanging around here for months. He talks about her too much. Sometimes I think I know more about her than I know about him.  But she doesn’t know me. Before I left, I looked around the apartment. Her velvet ottoman. Subtle art that looks expensive. Plants. Record player. Her designer clothes. Her band name in cursive script hanging on her wall. She has a Masters in art. Her parents supported her travels through Europe, where she learned to shape wire with a soldering iron.  I hop on my bike and pedal away for my next delivery.  I don’t think I want to be alive anymore. He met her before he met me. They went out on a few dates and it fizzled out. I wasn’t allowed to hear the details.  And I wasn’t allowed to meet her. Today, the universe via  Señor Gato’s Speedy Tacos decided to override that pol

The petals fall The bombs go off And the world paints sunflowers. In this broken world. Art matters. --Erin Hoffman Find Erin's art here .