Current Issue

Winter 2015

Volume 61.2

Past Issues

Fall 2014

Volume 61.1

Spring 2014

Volume 60.3

Winter 2014

Volume 60.2

Fall 2013

Volume 60.1

Katherine Evans
The Los Angeles apartment was tropical, with grapefruits hanging heavy off the trees that lined our street and fat lemons that spilled into the gutter, sometimes hitting car hoods in the night on their way down and making the alarms go off. From our unit we had a clean view of the San Gabriels. There was a koi pond out front—with no koi, but still. I was excited to be in a new city, so different from New York. Here there was sprawl and open space and the buildings were mostly low and long. I glimpsed the courtyard of the elementary school next door, the kids shuffling from class to class in the open air and [...]
Vanessa Couto Johnson
The cell divided can eventually stand. Does anyone want a complete person beside them. Can anyone accept a magnitude. The exponent approaches platform. Does a deadlift. Bench press. Gavel gazing, up and down attention. Some people are eating something as others lick their teeth. Head first, stomach later. Trust science more th [...]
Joshua Kleinberg
What I’d like is to tell you the redemption story. The same shine as balloons: a remnant of white in the sullen pupils of the dead-in-life, and how those dead may be made new, if they’ll fix a gaze long enough on just about anything the wind chooses to play with. A bonus for dusk, a grove of palmettos, or her flyaway hairs. In the gut, we rec [...]
Emily Koon
I learn fast that there are rules in the underworld. If you want to get by, you have to work their system.' Don’t eat anything, not even a seed. Don’t let one of them touch you, the damned [...]
Justin Fetterman
We don't know where it goes. We don't really care. When painting alla prima, you work back towards yourself. Oil based, wet-on-wet. Translated Italian: first attempt. Coat the canvas with magic white or phthalo blue. A single point of yellow, spread by the almighty fan brush, becomes the sun, the harvest moon. Clouds swirl and distant mountains rise [...]
Jessica Hudgins
after Matisse You have pencil-scarred knees, foot-soles. Bones and flesh round as worry-stone. If I took that right arch as if to rub clear the sweeping marks, you would press into my firm grip. [...]
Tina Tocco
It started with butterflies. Wings splayed and restrained. Proboscis coiled, but dormant. The softness, hardness, softness as the pins popped the abdomen, the innards, the felt. The crisp crack of Styrofoam. The tints of [...]
John Burgman
After school, Damon reached into the pocket of his rain jacket and showed me a fragment of his mother’s bone, as smooth and white as a swan feather. I had never seen a human bone before, and somehow I was expecting it to look different, less animal-like. Damon let me hold it and said it was a gift f [...]
This Saturday, Feb 21st, at 7 pm, Portland Review celebrates the release of our winter issue with readings by local contributors and we’d like you to join us! Fea [...]
Dear Writers, Artists, Friends, and lovers of the arts, Portland Review is now open through February for a new batch of submissions for Spring 2015.  We are looki [...]
Join us on Friday, November 14th at 7 pm, as Portland Review celebrates the release of our Fall 2014 issue with a reading event featuring the work of contributors to [...]