INTERNAL MEMOS
explaining the leak

From drunk emails to inopportunely-timed use of the wrong name, errors provide a clearer reflection of who you are than any shiny mirror could. We especially like the convex error of private gaffe amplified by unintentional public disclosure. The TSA’s half-redacted operating handbook or Sarah Palin’s hacked Yahoo account. Just look at your roommate’s diary, filled with inaccuracies about you, starting with the naïve belief you wouldn’t be reading it. To paraphrase Sheldon, the wise waterproofer who fixed a problem we once had, everything leaks. Rather than wait for entropy to work it's magic, we'll use our own poor judgdment today and leak these INTERNAL MEMOS: notes between editors as they read submissions. Identifiers have been stripped out, along with positive responses or because they aren’t nearly as fun to read.

too young. though it is Lungfull's job to encourage the youth, it is also Lungfull's job to shred its heart.
Nothing against being raw sex-obsessed lyrics but I don't find it that interesting.
the last one has a good ending and something of life metamorphosis. the rest seem aware of their own 'fuck you'
edgy-boorish. except for the unicorn-shirt-irony and throw-myself-through-a-rainbow lines. they seem honest and adolescent. i guess i would have to reject a poem that made me want to sift through and take out the burnt parts, even if there were still some perfectly good kernels that weren't burnt.
Stalker. Close your blinds lady!
Good beginnings but then she inserts mechanical-poetry-stuff.
Wake me up at the part where Wes Anderson dies.
Okay meditations with zero spark.
God no.
Gih.
No, god.
Meh.
In your face! No.
No to all 40 pages, but everyone needs to read the whole thing.
Not a bad story but too long and no pizzas (pizzazz?)
Not terrible just a bit self aware.
Too poemy.
Naw.
Too honey-like.
Ahhhh close but not yet.
Nope. No way.
No! Never!
Nah-nah.
Yech.
This one’s fantastic right up until the very end and then it really sucks.
Ugh.
Can’t-slash-won’t.
Too tired to care.
Goodbye, Columbus.
I kind of like these but I find them a little obnoxious.
Having trouble with focusing on these.
Oh lord. Café culture club.
Un-check.
Too laboriously over-formalized.
Wow! So wild! No.
Portnoy’s other complaint.
Boring but inoffensive.
“short” story=misnomer.
Ug! Don’t bother.
Fuck you, guy.
I perversely like these.
Don’t waste my time.
No. Creepy.
No – but I’m glad you enjoy all your money.
Blech. I have a bad feeling about this guy.
A little cute, no?
I wanted, but failed, to like this.
On fire with Christ!
Sad. Dumb.
Still screaming.
Almost, but too anthemic.
Probably good but I can’t stand to read them.
Claustrophobic.
Hacky nature poems.
Too clever for his own good.
So bad it has to be read out loud so: maybe.
The form is decent but she doesn’t get far with it. Yawn.
These are almost interesting.
I’ve never been what you would call a “fan” of this guy, but these are good-ish.
Not a bad short poem at all.
Overextends the sexy-sexy-time metaphor.
I don’t know what these mean vis-à-vis racism but I kind of like these.
Seems like a nice kid.

LUNGFULL!magazine

home * current issue * archives

in the house * submit * subscribe * faq's

special events * zinc * linkfull * contact us