“Omen Sketches” by Rachelle Pinnow
Rachelle Pinnow is also a professional geologist and a part-time writer. A graduate of the University of Calgary’s creative writing program, her short stories and …
The Metaworker Literary Magazine
Where great stories are forged.
Rachelle Pinnow is also a professional geologist and a part-time writer. A graduate of the University of Calgary’s creative writing program, her short stories and …
Dude driving, dude driving vast expanses, dude fucking up on the GPS, dude asking for directions, dude getting off on the right off-ramp and hitting the ocean …
Too bad there’s no internet cake. It’s a year later, and we didn’t think we’d last a year. Q: You didn’t? A: No. We really …
Reason for waking, lofty faded dreams soft steps in grass eyes raised skyward Brisk breeze blows wind swirls on water geese march in air reality …
Hello, everyone! It’s Friday again and we’ve got another extra thing to share. When we were all talking, we realized we’ve all shared some of …
I joined the most well-adjusted band in America. My fault for believing. After twenty days and twenty nights I lost my lease on life with …
To celebrate the release of her debut novel, we are pleased to present an interview with Alex Clare, author of He’s Gone. Read an excerpt …
I used to think girl meant pink meant birthday cake roses wilting for safety & always use your inside voice but sometimes it means shout …
We at The Metaworker are excited to bring you something a little different this Friday. We’ve been given the opportunity to work with Impress Books, …
Into the infinite void where spaciousness calls out with a silent vibrating hum. Vibrant electricity gets shocked and magnetized by polar extremes to …
Rachelle Pinnow is also a professional geologist and a part-time writer. A graduate of the University of Calgary’s creative writing program, her short stories and …
You can cage me in fireworks But I won’t wither from entropy I was once resilient to the loss Or maybe I just absorb it …
Hello! Matthew here with another announcement! And this is one I’ve been waiting for. Those of you who have been reading our about us will have …
Addison Namnoum and The Metaworker Editorial Staff would like to dedicate this poem to the victims of the Orlando shooting, and to their friends, families, …
I don’t know how long we were up on that hillside, just Paul and me. We sat in a shallow trench, bundled up …
I ask carbon, what does it feel like to be backbone? To have multiple arms? To be mother to all of me. Mother to all …
I don’t want that smart bomb sort of love, that painless thing all beset with clang of rust knife, mouse click, screen swipe, before you …
There is something he forgot Something he had do to today He stands in the driveway Next to the black BMW Taps his foot …
Diamond shimmers within sand, an ardor in the moon’s brightness; a whisper. Stealing of devoted memories cast one’s heart off into eternity; the promissory. Talking …
Tom Blethen faced two fifty foot rows of potatoes. He looked up at the December sky. It had rained, the field was all muddy, and it …
Late night insomnia in la ciudad that never sleeps is a gift. I slip between the dusk, waltzing weaving between hum of streetlamp. Twirling in …
Is it a cricket, a refugee, chirping behind solid bars? Rub the legs, hope to see, there is nothing in the darkness. Close the eyes, …
Seep Thought like a torrent of water Seep- drip, drip, drip. Each mould to old ideas that drip into a now opened mind. …
Well it’s about damn time, and here we are. We, at the Metaworker, hope you were impatiently waiting. Because we, at the Metaworker, were impatiently …
I have seven alarm clocks programed on my smartphone Which I place under my pillow at night Seven alarm clocks that are set 5 minutes …
Happy Leap Year, everyone. And I have an announcement for you all. I wanted to start with: I can’t believe we’re still a thing. Literary …
Every night I’ve lain awake with baited breath. Shadows flash across the ceiling as cars pass by the window. There is a woman out there, …
The reason I write is a simple one: I’ve always done it, and I can’t imagine living my life without writing. When I think about …
Lightning strikes like the silhouette of the city and for a moment, the air blisters with Saint Elmo’s fire over the Arby’s sign. The …
I am getting off the school bus at the top of the driveway in the afternoon on a Friday. In real life, there were only …
https://youtu.be/4jJA229Cd-0 So I’m sittin’ in the lunchroom of the factory one day, chattin’ up the new gal. She was a secretary. Name of Suzie. Only …
Sit up straight, feet flat, pen poised – ready? Now don’t think, just write what comes to mind. Don’t pick up your pen, just keep …
How am I fitting in this right now? It’s been years, centuries since I was small enough to terrorize villages and miniature pedestrians in this …
Torrin Greathouse is a Literary Journalism student and governing member of the Uncultivated Rabbits spoken word collective at UC Irvine. They were the 2015 winner …
I want to address something that, in hindsight, should have been brought up before. We’ve posted a few editorials about the process of writing, but …
It occurred to me the other day that I don’t know your name even though you wear a name tag. I never even bothered to …
I was five years old when I first kissed a girl. Her name was Juliana and it happened during my kindergarten recess, on the sand …
Wait, it isn’t Monday! Yeah, well I’m about to drop some news on you suckas. It fits pretty solidly into the good news/bad news/okay news …
Without Roots Without Roots this Ikea bed supports me just about as well as a twig supports a tree house Glue sticks Paper thin is …
How to Become a Professional Writer (And Get Paid Too) It sounds like a headline too good to be true, right? Finding a good writing …
She wanders through the streets past midnight. They assume it’s too dangerous for her. It isn’t because anyone who would harm her is asleep. She, …
It’s funny how there are different kinds of tears. Tired ones that creep from the corners of your eyes, brushed away with impatient fingers; dry, …
She looks at the ground, the sky, the trees; anywhere but her own heart. She must, at all costs, keep the poison from entering her …
To the rail Taken under duress, mid congress, my petticoats torn, I find myself bound to the track. Ostensibly, for ransom. But who pray tell, …
Last week in the park, a small, violent dog kept sniffing the ass of a much larger, more docile dog. The sniff was aggressive and strangely …
One girl bakes a hundred cupcakes and gives them away for free. One girl wastes perfectly good eggs on a car. One girl’s dog gets …
The needle pricks my skin and I gasp as I shake out my hand. A little speck of red blood lands on the grey flooring. …
Out by the creek behind our home, the moon and stars reflect off the water, and Bandile would often go out there. The trees were …
My room is black as an Olympic runner—except for the illuminated screen of my Sony Vaio which radiates like Chernobyl. My laptop is cherry red; …
She led me out of my house in the middle of the night. I went with her because she was moving away the next day, …
The first time I tried to ride a two wheel bike, I remember my dad running alongside my six-year-old self as I swerved down the …
Wil Deas lives and writes in the city of Los Angeles with his cat Murder Mittens. A recent graduate of Chapman University, Wil is doing …
Hey guys, happy hump day (or at least it was when I started this). I just wanted to take this opportunity to talk about art. …
They Sleek bold bodybound by expectationsby gendered declarationsforced to function in conversationssplit in twain by ‘his’ + ‘her’, no ‘they’ How to navigate this intimate …
He comes for honey, sweetness of the meaty earth he plants his flag in. Sunlight pollinates the horizon with gold. He moves like a rolling …
Please never call me that. Why did I call myself that? As of now, there is no deadline for when we’re going to start publishing …
No one ever said it would be easy being writers. Instead, we heard things like, “So what do you plan to do with your degree? …