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

Andie Francis
Where would an astronaut park her space ship? Considering she has pushed her bowling ball in anticipation of its collision, and life forms gather to hear Jailhouse Rock, the void is not completely empty. She is suspended with her back to an earth that won’t listen. Atoms, she thinks, appear as light, so no wonder Elvis is still alive. We used the word “gun” over and over until it became “love.” This field is easily traversed because sandwiches disappear at each asteroid. For it is spring in California, and the sun is burning a woman’s shoulders. Perhaps when one begins to barrel toward [...]
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 [...]
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 [...]
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 [...]
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 lik [...]
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 w [...]
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 tricky. I am more than a container of tricks, I know a complex lexicon but will not let on. She walks. Walk, walk walk. For a while they talk. They da [...]
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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 [...]