Prose, Poetry, and Art since 1956
The nights are growing longer, there’s a hint of snow in the air, and we’re eager to read just a few more of your stories before we rest our heads. Starting Monday, 12/20/21, we’re accepting Fiction submissions for 48 hours! There’s no theme to follow this time, just send us your best fiction under 5,000 words. Submissions will open at 12 a.m. PST on December…
Plume I lost the feather I found that day, off-trail and alone in winter woods, when, for the first time since her death, I wanted to believe the pieces of my life could snap…
Not enough fireflies winking over the lawn to brighten even oneof those canning jars you used in childhood. And the crows no longer roistering at dusk behind your house. That’s where it startstonight—your mental list of grievances like the reckoning of a miser over his cache.Or is it to master them that you recite the small along with the large affronts— the burnt rice, the…
among the taxidermy mountain goats in the museum of natural history the little girl dreamsof a shipwreck; she sways on the bow when the wavecapsizes her & aloneshe sinks her wool coat,pockets full of starlings glossy & dark—they fighttheir path to the surface,erupting— she can see the murmurthrough the sugar glassocean / in her eyes areflection of a small egg,sinking afterdark at night, when the…
hanging from the Pit River bridge; he liked heights. It was not the hours huddled over drinks at the nearest bar. Nor was it the asbestos blankets that shrouded his lungs. And yet, his grin is easy, as if his days were blithe, fortune set. When he’d hoist me onto his shoulders, I leaned like a figurehead, charging the clouds. But he’s outlived the battery…