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Lowlife Lit Press carves out a niche in the literary world by embracing the unpolished, the downtrodden, and the defiantly real. It’s a press for those who’ve been knocked down but keep telling their stories anyway.
Lowlife Submissions
“Don’t Get Caught”: A Memoir of Porn
As small children in the early 1970s, my little brother Joey and I were immersed in the extensive pornographic collections of magazines,...
C. Christine Fair
May 25
It’s Due at 11:59 P.M. Thursday
I rolled down the window and looked at my watch. Then I glance at the bank, and then all around the town’s concrete square. They should...
Keith Millis
Jun 4
For Ambiance
Silver boot heels thump along the porch planks, and a gunslinger pushes through the saloon’s batwing doors. Blind Jon pauses his playing,...
Travis L Flatt
Jun 4
Cermak Street Bridge
I don’t remember why I came in here It’s easy to forget My short-term memory deteriorated when I quit opiates, I’m still learning how to...
Sam Heuring
Jun 4
New York City
I want to see New York again Its dark streets and even darker alleys Where the sleet bites my windshield as I drive along FDR Where the...
Renee Ebert
Jun 4
Bailing Out Father
When you wake suddenly, it is sunset already, and Jimmy is rolling a joint on the dashboard. The potholes on Highway 69 are as bad for...
Murgatroyd Monaghan
Jun 4
Last Call
Tara’s eyes narrow as she walks around the pool table. She rubs the tip of her cue stick with a cube of blue chalk, trying to find her...
Brian K. Bolen
May 26
Hellbound
Her mother is letting the flowers die, right there on her kitchen table, and there is nothing you can do about it. Her mother lets...
Murgatroyd Monaghan
May 26
Run, Rabbit, Run
When he noticed the cops on the corner, Quentin ate faster. Yes, he’d plucked the sandwich out of the trash, and yes, someone had dropped...
Zach Edson
May 26
Listening to Jazz in Newport Beach (Remembering the Holocaust)
All the beautiful clothes In a pile on the floor Some beginning to wear A thread loose, color fading A piece of hair Of living human...
Renee Ebert
May 26
Lucky Number Thirteen
Ah-ha, she looks good, he thought. I can see it in her face. Her avatar photo showed a pale, mousy face with a long, thin nose, weak...
John Grantner
May 26
Black, Gold, and Cigarettes
Matteo shivered in his jacket as he lit his cigarette. According to his itinerary, he had four minutes to make it to his seat for...
Crystal N. Ramos
May 26
Sample Gone Wrong
Turning into a vampire is nothing like the way they show it in movies. There’s nothing romantic about it. There’s no beautiful woman or...
Jordan O'Halloran
May 26
Starry Night
“Knock, knock, knock.” A sharp metallic sound jerks me awake. Is someone knocking on the door of the truck? My brain is pea soup after...
O. Vello
May 26
Meatballs in the Apocalypse
Lucas knew he was being ridiculous. The world had ended, and survival should have been his only focus. But lately, memories of his...
Kirsty Nottage
May 25
On Roy Bentley’s Grandmother’s Attempt to Shoot Her Lover
What of this gal, who had the wherewithal to rack a forty-five, and the will to line up the sights on his forehead—was she surprised,...
Alan Abrams
May 25
“Don’t Get Caught”: A Memoir of Porn
As small children in the early 1970s, my little brother Joey and I were immersed in the extensive pornographic collections of magazines,...
C. Christine Fair
May 25
Tony
Roger was a tall, handsome man with the gentlest of natures. He couldn’t help what happened to him. It happened to many men, over a...
Margaret E Taylor-Ulizio
May 25
Chaos
Pounding thoughts Sleepless still Carve and maul But not to kill Chaos engulfs The inner battle Spirit spinning Perceptions rattle...
Natalie Shea
May 24
The Nature of Attraction
It’s undeniable that it’s both badass and hot to do coke off the blade of a knife, take your pick, or pick both. It’s also true that the...
Samuel Plauché
May 23
By, The Devil
The first time I met the devil was during divorce negotiations. It began like a dream: infatuation, love at first sight, and unbridled...
Kappa Alpha
May 23
The Night at the Opium Den
My name is Derek Wirth. I am an engineer for a major software company. I am here in Bangkok on business. My company sent me to Thailand...
Mitchell David Kowitz
May 23
The Day Owen O’Leary Blew into Town
Owen O’Leary arrived at Murphy’s Twin Shamrocks an hour early for his meeting with Joe “The Knife” Nowicki. It was a Tuesday afternoon in...
Brian Mosher
May 23
Monkey With A Gun
The email exchanges of two American TV executives discussing upcoming TV programming. Executive 1— sent: I want to talk to you about a...
James Tucker
May 23
Why Are The Fingers Pointing At Me?
Dragged into this filthy room the fight I put up wasn’t enough disgust creeps in like roaches crawling under my skin scrubbing till I...
Pragadish Kalaivanan
May 23
Lit Brawl I: 30 Writers. One Champion. All Blood.
Welcome to Lit Brawl— Lowlife Lit Press 's no-holds-barred, ink-splattered literary deathmatch. 30 writers enter. One walks away with the...
lowlifelitpress
May 4
The Back O’Town Hustle
Ray wiped sweat from his eyes and checked his watch again. Two hours late. The saxophonist should've been here by nine, but the Quarter...
James William Wulfe
May 7
Lit Brawl I: 30 Writers. One Champion. All Blood.
Welcome to Lit Brawl— Lowlife Lit Press 's no-holds-barred, ink-splattered literary deathmatch. 30 writers enter. One walks away with the...
lowlifelitpress
May 4
Litany of the Tongue—Ode to Oral
I have known religions that never asked for faith— only breath held between thighs, prayer in the shape of a moan. I do not speak your...
James William Wulfe
Apr 8
Beauty in Brutality
These mountains hold secrets. Why wouldn’t they? From the base of the holler to its cresting ridge. They’ve seen things our minds could...
James William Wulfe
Apr 1
Hollow Bones & Empty Crates
I often wonder if things will ever change. Louisiana nights are hot and sticky. Especially in an old southern home. The small structure...
James William Wulfe
Mar 30
Subtle Reminders
A warm pile of dog shit occupies the living room floor. The one-hundred-and-twenty-year-old pine floors absorb its nutrients and odor. I...
James William Wulfe
Mar 29
The Girl with the Blood-Red Lips
She walked into Pop’s Diner like she owned the place, red heels clicking against the tile, a cigarette holder dangling between her...
James William Wulfe
Mar 29
A Fistful of Rain
Jesse leans against the brick wall, feeling the rain soak through his shirt. He lights a cigarette, but it tastes like ashes. Across the...
James William Wulfe
Mar 27
Breath and Distance
Crouched between boxcars, fingers raw and split, face creased like worn leather from weather and want. His pocket holds nothing but a...
James William Wulfe
Mar 23
Call For Artwork
We’re looking for art that bleeds. Art that’s been kicked in the teeth, left in the gutter, and still crawls back with a story to tell....
lowlifelitpress
Mar 23
The Leprechaun War of Bourbon Street
The first little green bastard showed up on the corner of Royal and St. Peter, grinning at Seamus with a mouth full of gold teeth. Seamus...
James William Wulfe
Mar 21
The Graying Search
Twenty-two swipes left today. Twenty-two faces gleaming under ring lights, duck lips pursed like they're blowing kisses at bank accounts....
James William Wulfe
Mar 20
Lowlife Lit Press is a home for raw, uncompromising fiction and poetry that thrives on the fringes of society. It showcases work that dives into the underbelly of life—stories of drifters, hustlers, night-shift workers, addicts, dreamers, and survivors.
We don't care about your MFA. We care if your story makes us feel something.
Got something raw? Send it our way.
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