CONNECT WITH MARS
CURRENT COLLECTED EDITIONS
NEW & UNCOLLECTED ISSUES
BOOKS BY JULIAN DARIUS
OTHER FICTION AND POETRY
Magazine
Gallery of the Disappeared Men
She had seen that clouded look before, a determined mix of pity and revulsion and something else she could not define. It was there and then gone in an instant, like that first surprising zing… [more]
Michele Bachmann
I want to see this film and I want to read this book. She is the anachronistic subject of the poem, the woman in the oil painting making love to crabs. I’m a little girl… [more]
Dig Doug, Day 3
Doug didn’t bother taking a shower. Instead, he came into work early as usual. As he stood in front of the building, waiting for Kay to unlock it, he noticed that the others stood away… [more]
A Blanket Made with Thistles
A long tongue of highway slithered out ahead of us, the windows kept sticking and the air conditioning didn’t work. I could feel my breath make a wave of lazy lines in front of me… [more]
Pushed
He stood up from his desk and yelled, _____“Nasty-ass bitch motherfucker!” when I told him to leave, perhaps mistaking my nervous, shocked smile for mocking when he thrusted his hands into my chest on his… [more]
In the Junkyards #6
I road rage on fatal attractions side-swipe your hard trim or destroy your front fascia & pillar. Your juke box boys are out of gas. When the sun went corrupt. I disassemble over your Mach-IV body. Can… [more]
Second Coming
In Sunday School today Miss Hooker said that Jesus is coming but she’s not sure when–coming again, she means. He was here once before, a half-a-Bible ago, before there was anything like we know today.… [more]
1978
She lived alone. She lived many lives. Her name was Jenn. She had several cats. They rarely came out. Jenn barely went out either. Her weekly trips to the store. The cherry wine. The Pall… [more]
One: Strain [of] Reflection
Net the tulips with their own wither. (It will fit better as the colors fade.) To black tripping white, pledge pieces of the fallen. Flatten the table’s surface pretending to be Columbus’ demise. We know… [more]
Steven Storky and the Case of the Lost Balls
Steven Storky has lost his balls. His wife, Sandy, may have them, but Steven doesn’t have the balls to ask her. It’ll be a lose-lose situation if he asks her anyway. She certainly won’t give… [more]
Just One Look
She looked like the kind of girl who needed to be smacked around a little before the fucking started. She should have said something before. I got taken in and it was the first time… [more]
Dig Doug, Day 2
Doug woke hungry the next day. His stomach rattled and revolted like a prisoner trying to escape. For the first time ever, he wanted to go to work. Not to work on his blog, but… [more]
Martian Lit Releases the Novel Nira/Sussa
Martian Lit’s much-anticipated novel Nira/Sussa has been released in paperback and on Kindle. The transgressive plot sees its unlikable, emotionally stunted thirtysomething narrator having an affair with a 17-year-old girl. But in the ultimate transgressive… [more]
Watching People Burn Trailer Released
Martian Lit has released its first video, a trailer for Julian Darius’s Watching People Burn. The book is an original, illustrated, historical screenplay. It reads quickly. It’s gotten rave reviews. And it’s cheap — currently… [more]
Road Rage
His red face pocked with dried blisters, the man bent forward in clothes reeking of wine barrels. He looked familiar. Pausing in his work, Billy said “hey, how you doing?” but the man kept his… [more]
Dig Doug, Day 1
The oversized plate glass doors whooshed open as Doug and the other employees pressed inside. Outside, beyond the doors, somewhere out in the pale yellow field opposite the building was a rich, putrid stink that… [more]
Numbers Racket
1. Fourteen steep steps lead up to the second floor, where my apartment is. Every time I mount or descend these stairs I count them, sometimes aloud but usually to myself. I don’t mean to,… [more]
Killing Mom
My wife warned me that she would kill my mother. Honestly I didn’t care as long as she didn’t get caught. Besides, I knew Dana wouldn’t have the guts to do it. Was I really… [more]
And So
She can see it bruise the horizon, then erupt – like a mother striking a daughter, like the electricity between the surfaces of her palms, or between two women repelled. The storm rears, poised to… [more]
The Many Lives of Yelena Moulin, Chapter 10
In the holofeed wall above the phony flickering fireplace, the fifteen-year-old Mira Mira sat in the defendant’s chair, listening to testimony against her. Yelena thought her neon blue skin undercut the way her lawyers had… [more]
A Disquisition on the Erogenous Impulse in Prose Narratives
I once drew an enormous cock on the wall of the Shettleston Community Support & Benefits Centre. I took great care rendering each hair poking from below the scrotum to the thick copse of pubic… [more]
The Many Lives of Yelena Moulin, Chapter 9
A dozen colored spotlights, gaudy and grandiose, caressed Yelena Moulin. Glitter rained down upon her, caught like sparkling dust as it descended through the colored layers of light. The rest of the room was lit… [more]
Before the Deep, Dark Sleep: The Black-and-White Art of Doug Smock
If you’ve seen the cover of our book Nira/Sussa, you know that Doug Smock’s brilliant artwork shines in black and white.
The Many Lives of Yelena Moulin, Chapter 8
The hardest thing about spending days underwater was keeping the mind busy.
Report Card
A) I cried and he said it was fantastic. I asked him how it was fantastic. I asked him where in his fucked up mind did my situation intersect with the realm of fantastic, and… [more]
