The Collapsar publishes new poetry, fiction, and nonfiction every other month, and new culture writing weekly.

Thomas Edison Dahlia by Kenneth Pobo

Photo by Rob Dutcher  

No defining, no boxing up that purple. Some blobby gardening catalogues describe it. Maybe Edison loved dahlias, his namesake dashing around in purple underpants— the sun doesn’t turn away. The moon keeps alert— the kitchen’s electric light fierce against the dark when dahlias push buds open—a stem invents a petaled circle widening all morning.




Kenneth Pobo lives in Middletown, Pennsylvania, though he grew up in Illinois.  In 2012, Finishing Line Press brought out his chapbook called Save My Place.  Eastern Point Press is bringing out his chapbook called Placemats.  His work has appeared in Indiana Review, Mudfish, Philadelphia Stories, Orbis, and elsewhere.  He loves to garden and also loves music from the 1960s.

An excerpt from Madeleine E. by Gabriel Blackwell

From Everything Makes a Noise When It Reveals Itself by Lisa Ciccarello