Dear The Internet,
Submissions are closed, probably permanently. Thank you for your submissions and for reading, and our sincere apologies to any who we may have not emailed informing them of the situation. Between a high submission volume, a tiny staff, other obligations, and unrealistically-high personal standards for responding in detail to most every submission, we’re now in a position where we are just going to have to call it quits.
We’re going to let this domain expire; the issuu-hosted versions should remain up for as long as issuu.com exists.
Also, now that it’s all done-and-done, we’d like to point out that there’s only one of us. I just figured ‘we’ sounded more literary, y’know?
Keep your life the rotting carapace you’ve always wanted it to be,
This journal seeks to provide flasks of dirt to sustain you through the massive emotional desert that forms the bulk of our sterilized world.
We’re looking for acts of creation that are unusual, weird, experimental… dirty. Dirty in both the spiritual and the physical sense. Not unhygienic so much as antihygienic. Queer, in the most beautiful and dark sense of that word. Poetry that negates rather than mediates. That screams ‘fuck you’ without apology. Prose that wants nothing to do with the avant-garde’s incessant creation of new territories, and would rather burrow deep under the reader’s skin. Necrophilia, meet the corpse of punk.
DIRT FLASK :: dɜːt flɑːsk ::
1. Ordure; excrement.
2. Unclean matter, such as soils any object by adhering to it; filth.
3. Anything worthless.
4. The quality or state of being dirty or foul; dirtiness, foulness, uncleanness in action or speech.
1. A vessel of wood, skin, or other material, for carrying liquor.
2. A bottle, usually of glass, of spheroidal or bulbous shape, with a long narrow neck. Also, the contents or capacity of a flask.
3. A bottle of glass or metal, somewhat flat in shape and of size suitable to be carried in the pocket, intended to contain a supply of wine or other beverage for use on a journey.