Current Issue

Spring 2014

Volume 60.3

Past Issues

Winter 2014

Volume 60.2


Fall 2013

Volume 60.1


Summer 2013

Volume 59.3


Spring 2013

Volume 59.2

Mark Crimmins
A flash thunderstorm hits Millennium Park. Tourists scatter as though coming under sniper fire. Some run towards the Pritzker Pavilion for shelter. Others flee in the direction of Michigan Avenue. You join a crowd taking refuge beneath the Bean. It seems like a good spot to wait. Silver rivulets of rain swirl over the sculpture’s mirrored curves. People look upwards and murmur in aesthetic appreciation. Huge gobs of prairie rain ricochet into efflorescence off the concrete surface of the plaza. But there is trouble. A yellow-jacketed security guard runs towards the sculpture, hood up, waving his arms. People! You can’t shelter here! It’s dangerous! The Bean is made o [...]
Regina Ernst
1 A kettle of turkey vultures is doing that thing. They soar in one place, black wings widespread, catching the updraft to nowhere, stuck in the blue expanse like freckles on a face. They form no shape, but are framed between two tall buildings, air conditioning units and clothes coloring the sides. If this is the Caribbean Sea, if the vultures are [...]
Edie Rylander
You were so nice it jawed my jugular and has yet to let go. Eating ice cream with you makes me suspicious. Your beard has taken up residency in the upper left ventricle of my heart. A nest of finches in your beard. A small colony of mites in the feathers of the finches. I want to hang a No Vacancy sign on my chest. [...]
Anne Charlton
There are old subway tickets taped to my refrigerator. One still holds three trips’ fare left over from a visit with you. I think of all the time holed up there, all that steeled thundering [...]
Sophia Pfaff Shalmiyev
a review of Inga Muscio's Autobiography of a Blue-Eyed Devil: My Life and Times in a Racist, Imperialist Society I was doing acid with my boyfriend in B Dorm at T [...]
Joel Sherman
I watched as my younger sister Gertie reached out to grab the cicada. I can see it now, plain as day, the copper-veined wings, the devil-red eyes. It was sitting on the woodpile against the side of our house. I was standing right at her shoulder when it happened. It was my idea to catch the cicada in the first place. Neither of us had ever seen o [...]
Sarah Ann Winn
She. They. They call. They call and call. They call me Basket. Come, Basket. Good Basket Darling, cher, sweet Basket. Ce qui est la Panier? We play. But I am. I am more. I am tr [...]
Adam McOmber
Arthur awakes in the golden wood. He has dreamed of a silver cup or a stone that fell from the sky. He cannot remember which and wonders if it matters. The campfire has gone out. His bedroll is covered in dew. He watches mistletoe flutter on the branch of a tall birch and listens to the bright son [...]
More >>
Dear Writers, Artists, Friends, and lovers of the arts, Portland Review is now open for a new batch of submissions. Our submission period for our upcoming Fall 20 [...]
On Friday, June 13th from 5 - 7 pm we will be celebrating the launch of our Spring 2014 issue with a reading at Glyph Cafe & Arts Space. Come join us for another fan [...]
If you're reading this blog, you're either my mom (Hi, Mum!) or a writer looking to get publish [...]