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HSTQ: Winter 2026
horror, adj. inspiring or creating loathing, aversion, etc.
sleaze, adj. contemptibly low, mean, or disreputable
trash, n. literary or artistic material of poor or inferior quality
Welcome to HSTQ: Fall 2025, the curated collection from Horror, Sleaze and Trash!
sleaze, adj. contemptibly low, mean, or disreputable
trash, n. literary or artistic material of poor or inferior quality
Welcome to HSTQ: Fall 2025, the curated collection from Horror, Sleaze and Trash!
- GenresPoetry
28 pages, ebook
Published March 1, 2026
About the author
Arthur Graham
81 books692 followersArthur Graham writes and edits for a living. Cofounder and former head editor of Rooster Republic Press. Current Editor in Chief of Horror Sleaze Trash.
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
March 31, 2026
Get it in print for five bucks a copy! Otherwise, FREE ebook here.
April 21, 2026
Hooray, I'm in here. But starting w/ others: Opening is Wednesday's Child. I wish I knew that reference poem thing better, it's such a cool concept, espec intersecting w/ astrology, birth year, name/origin, etc, even if it's all just frivolous guesswork. But this is far darker an intro than lullaby-adjacent navel-gazing. More like artery-grazing. It's modern and ironic. Someone w/ the fun name Misti Rainwater-Lites writes another w/ an innocent title but seedy insides. "Brand New Key" is a cute entendre to reference. I suppose it implies the couple stayed together? The one by Salvatore def sounds like a song w/ its refrains and expansion on popular sayings. Last stanza is my fav, so teenage girl world.
Familiars: John Yohe and Casey Renee Kiser. The former funnilly blunt, almost sad, about strippers/OFers. The latter full of cool aliteration and phrases that sound like band names. This issue is so cohesive with the day names and nostalgia for childhood. I could see this being in Courtney Love's/some riot grrl's diary. Next piece is sort of a recipe for retirement and it actually rhymes. William Taylor Jr also makes a reappearance. Scrapheap isn't a word you hear enough. Then one about there always being a war for your mind/time/life/joy.
There's a piece about marriagable girls and a poor rabbit that could be a short story. I'd like to hear Nathan Bas's poem read aloud to get the flow down since there is no punctuation or things of that sort that make it extra meta w/ something that seems like sexual binary code (a computer's ones and zeros). Somber well-done Walking Girl piece by Donna Dallas. I liked Luz's "sunshine blisters growing on your face." The end takes a turn sharper than the other pieces.
Recognize Daniel S. Irwin. I suppose 4 o'clock in Quebec is like 5 drinking time in the States? This issue is all over the world; next we're in NOLA. Some not-so-sneaky self-promotion if it's not fictional. Last line's jab made me laugh. Then my poem I forgot I even submitted. c: About learning what Ketamine is when I'd see my roommates get it. The pod I was listening to was Tim Dillon a la the exploding set backdrop/logo.
Last Call despite a mature title sounds like a poem you'd read in school about the moon and paths less traveled. What follows is Grab-A-Granny Inn, how's that for an attention-getter? OMG, its the toothless men that sound older and wow, that is a detail that will stick with you, ew hahaha. Another unexpected and funny end. "Glowing Green" speak of mint roach spray. I didn't know that's how that stuff smelled but goes with the meme I've been seeing lately of saying people who have roaches smell sweet/syrupy?
Editor Arthur Graham is getting into it lately! I've read so many issues and he's usually not in them but it's always nice to see. Gotta read his Sex Doll Gumbo eventually too. The poem Shadow Cat is more experimental with a sort of list of words you can read down or by column, "exhale of a hypodermic pounce" is something I might write. We end on a poem with a lotta F bombs and longing. I'm partial more to the alliteration and kisses and personifying liquors, the implication of "deep as a sword could be plunged into a heart."
Familiars: John Yohe and Casey Renee Kiser. The former funnilly blunt, almost sad, about strippers/OFers. The latter full of cool aliteration and phrases that sound like band names. This issue is so cohesive with the day names and nostalgia for childhood. I could see this being in Courtney Love's/some riot grrl's diary. Next piece is sort of a recipe for retirement and it actually rhymes. William Taylor Jr also makes a reappearance. Scrapheap isn't a word you hear enough. Then one about there always being a war for your mind/time/life/joy.
There's a piece about marriagable girls and a poor rabbit that could be a short story. I'd like to hear Nathan Bas's poem read aloud to get the flow down since there is no punctuation or things of that sort that make it extra meta w/ something that seems like sexual binary code (a computer's ones and zeros). Somber well-done Walking Girl piece by Donna Dallas. I liked Luz's "sunshine blisters growing on your face." The end takes a turn sharper than the other pieces.
Recognize Daniel S. Irwin. I suppose 4 o'clock in Quebec is like 5 drinking time in the States? This issue is all over the world; next we're in NOLA. Some not-so-sneaky self-promotion if it's not fictional. Last line's jab made me laugh. Then my poem I forgot I even submitted. c: About learning what Ketamine is when I'd see my roommates get it. The pod I was listening to was Tim Dillon a la the exploding set backdrop/logo.
Last Call despite a mature title sounds like a poem you'd read in school about the moon and paths less traveled. What follows is Grab-A-Granny Inn, how's that for an attention-getter? OMG, its the toothless men that sound older and wow, that is a detail that will stick with you, ew hahaha. Another unexpected and funny end. "Glowing Green" speak of mint roach spray. I didn't know that's how that stuff smelled but goes with the meme I've been seeing lately of saying people who have roaches smell sweet/syrupy?
Editor Arthur Graham is getting into it lately! I've read so many issues and he's usually not in them but it's always nice to see. Gotta read his Sex Doll Gumbo eventually too. The poem Shadow Cat is more experimental with a sort of list of words you can read down or by column, "exhale of a hypodermic pounce" is something I might write. We end on a poem with a lotta F bombs and longing. I'm partial more to the alliteration and kisses and personifying liquors, the implication of "deep as a sword could be plunged into a heart."
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews