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

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 I will never hear in the minutes between stops. In the window above the sink, the sky darkens, sparks, offers a dry, wandering cough. The kitchen feels like a room in which everyone shifts restless in their seats at the same time: hundreds of pairs of jeans on cloth chairs, whispering something I can’t make out. [...]
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 The Evergreen State College in the nineteen nineties when I wondered out loud why there were so few black riot grrrls, so few prominent, [...]
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 [...]
Jennifer Makowsky
Raking eucalyptus leaves isn't the same as raking oak leaves. October is different here. Yet the task commands our back yard and its brittle cold morning. Wood smoke and the distant buzz of chainsaws gathered on the ai [...]
Kevin Halleran
Lance Corporal Hank Willis came home from Iraq and wouldn’t stop talking. What happened to the bashful district champ wrestler, the one who couldn't even smile for his picture in The Stony Creek Sentinel without squinting and gritting his teeth as if he was suffering from dysentery? Hank always had the look of a Marine—muscular build, cropped black ha [...]
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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 [...]