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We are thrilled to announce our next two books: Coffee Cup by Radha Kistler and Caged Boy Sings by Cameron Beyrent. Both are out on Sept 1st and available for preorder today.

Our Tumblr followers are probably aware of these writers, Radha Kistler is on Tumblr as floatinginthethoughtstreams and Cameron Beyrent posts as cagedboysings. We are thrilled to be have the honor of working with them.

Coffee Cup by Radha Kistler is a collection of deep and personal poetry that the author has written over the last five years, featuring artwork by David Mack (also on Tumblr!). Kistler has a distinctive voice and viewpoint, and shares her personal reflections on wanderlust, falling in and out of love, and surviving in the 21st century. Porcelain, a short story by Kistler, was featured in our 2013 release 1,000 Little Homicides.

Caged Boy Sings is a collection of personal essays, short stories, and poetry by Cameron Beyrent. These raw and oftentimes brutal selections present a unique take on the variety of experiences from the author's life and (perhaps twisted) imagination. This is Beyrent's first published work.

You can preorder Coffee Cup and Caged Boy Sings at our website today, including a money-saving package deal. Thanks for the continued support, stay tuned for information about release parties and readings.

#lostandfoundfiction #laf #cagedboysings #radhakistler #floatinginthethoughtstreams #alt lit #spilled ink #words #book #book release #preorder

lostandfoundfiction started following you

Thank you for following! You actually seem pretty cool, especially since I have such an interest in writing!

#lostandfoundfiction #reply #thanks

Well, now, I seem to have some interesting eyes on me.

A thank you for my 130th follow.

#lostandfoundfiction #outofirascibility

Open {By Radha Kistler}

Be bright as lightning. Be a crack of thunder. Be someone’s reason to forget someone else. Or their reason to remember. Make someone question things. What anything means. What everything means. Be someone’s reason to question if they really knew love at all before you. Or if anything exists afterward. But be a source of strength. A contentedness with simply existing. Two humans simply being. Simply sharing space. Cause someone to question what it means to be close. Really close. To understand that intimacy is not simply some textbook word used by sex therapists and psychologists. It is two living beings unable to understand where one body ends and another begins. Unable to even differentiate the edges of fingertips from arms, from collarbones, from noses, from eyes and lips. Self identity strikes you as odd in your head, but it’s still there, intact, even as you are blending into someone. Be someone’s reasons, even if you feel you shouldn’t. Be an inspiration. Be the beat behind someone’s lyrics. The rhyme and meter in their poems. Be the over used pronouns in every single one of their stories. Be the man or woman at the end of the bar. In the park alone, on a bench, open to human connection. Open to vulnerability. Open to experience.

#open #spilled ink #new poets society #radha kistler #lostandfoundfiction #poetry #poets on tumblr #creative writing #intimacy #Love Poetry #prose poetry

Sandwiches {Fiction}

I associate my ex boyfriend, Matt, with sandwiches. We used to make sandwiches every day together. This sounds extreme, but at one point it feels like that's all we ever ate, sandwiches. Which sounds boring, but trust me, we tried just about every sandwich known to man. Fancy ones, simple ones, every variety of bacon and spread, even bizarre ones with fruit and even one with cake icing. One day he looked deeply into my eyes, and I half expected him to tell me he loved me, when instead he says, very seriously, "What if life is just a sandwich? Just one big sandwich?" then he just looks at me. Then he says, "I mean, think about it. All those toppings...you can have so much variety in life, or you can keep it simple, because you know what you want. Sometimes life is boring, sometimes it's flavorless; sometimes it's just weird. And sometimes it's amazing. Like a fucking great fucking sandwich." My ex boyfriend used the "fuck" word too much. Then he just looks at me again. I have no idea what he wants me to say back to this, so I just say, "You're lame." And shake my head at him, half smiling. But then, months later, we break up and I am so bored and frustrated with myself, and all I can think of is the sandwiches. The fucking stupid sandwiches we used to make every single day when we could have been doing other things. Having sex on top of the library like we always talked about. Almost breaking our legs trying to learn how to snowboard. Almost drowning trying to learn how to surf. All those places we were going to go to. How we ourselves turned into some sort of bland sandwiches, all mustard and lettuce with no flavor. We stopped trying. Stopped moving around. We would have stopped breathing entirely, but we had to eat sometime. Those sandwiches. They stood in the way of who we would have been, as people. Who we would have been to each other. The sandwiches got inside my head, until I couldn't even think anymore. And that was the end of things. Me, Matt, life, and those ridiculous sandwiches. And after that, even the thought of sandwiches disgusted me, almost to the point of retching. It was nothing but Asian noodles and boxed macaroni and cheese. No more bread. No more lettuce. No more mustard.

#sandwiches #radha kistler #lostandfoundfiction #writing #creative writing #fiction #short story #short fiction #words #original writing #breakup

Through Me {By Radha Kistler}

You exist as before me, and behind me, and within me and without. I do not dissolve into lovers anymore.

Rather, I am built up.

None of my words about you seem witty or original. But they are birthed from me somehow, or rather, through me.

#poetry #spilled ink #love poem #radha kistler #lostandfoundfiction

Waiting for Her in Coffee Shops {By Radha Kistler}

You will always remember this town as being both beautiful and terrible. Not only for your childhood and all of its time spent here, but for when you moved back together, and all the time you spent with her here. The most powerful things you can ever remember experiencing have always been with her. Three years later, you're still living here, still going to her favorite coffee shops. Perhaps still hoping you will run into her on some cloudy morning, and when this happens, she will finally come back to you. You thought you saw her once, a year ago, at a traffic light. There were men in her car you didn't recognize. They were clearly laughing, but stopped the minute they saw you. She pointed your way, you think maybe you were waving both your arms at her, but she didn't stop. She didn't even slow down. She kept driving, straight through that green light like you weren't even there, like you didn't even exist. Like she hadn't opened herself up to you in every way possible, in impossible ways. Like she hadn't given you every bit of her body to do what you wanted with. Like her heart wasn't conducted by your drum beats. One day, you tell yourself. One day, I will run into her again and she will recognize what I've always been trying to tell her all along. That despite anything that's happened, and despite any other women you will meet, she'll be the only one you've ever loved that specific way; with no boundaries or barriers or disconnect. Exploring and loving someone the way they were meant to be loved. Eight hour shifts at the bookstore and the grocery store will do for now until you can find her again. You don't know who you are without her.