- Water Beneath the BridgeWILLOW DELP
The water was brown. / The Brabantio family had adamantly tried to ignore this fact – even the more progressive members politely refused to comment. …
- BlueshiftJACKELINE FERNANDES
I’d like to imagine my mother spiraling in space, a constellation of the galaxy Andromeda, blueshifted, moving against the force of time, that force which causes the expansion of the universe….
- dead on arrivalM. LAWSON
There was a sale at Ace Hardware today: forty percent off washers, so Ophelia walked home with tiny metal discs pinging around in his coat pocket….
- A Cross Walk In a LabyrinthDUSTIN COPELAND
My mother said that the pedestrian bridge over arrow-straight Route 1 was finally finished and that we were going to stop to talk a walk over it and my brother said what, why…
- Good LifeFAHIM ZAMAN
John Borges, we would love to award you, / Before you leave, for a good life / Lived, Johnny – / If not for a few objections. // Let’s see here, ah, at four some years just, / You cursed in Church…
- WHAT’S YOURS IS MINEGABBY AVENA
we had to learn to share, my sister-and-i. / older by a year, she laid claim to the color purple. there was only one color left for little girls. i hated pink, but it was mine: my-pink, her-purple….
Would it be stupid enough to kill its creator? Or —
maybe the fire was the key. Maybe it would scrape the years off his bones, return his few gray hairs to the universe. It would clean him, absolve him, and turn him back, so this time, he could get everything right.
I invite you to try and imagine what it would be like to braid joy into your writing alongside all that sorrow. / Imagine a bay leaf in soup, she said, like keeping a little fragment of joy somewhere in mind and even if it doesn’t end up in the final product, maybe there will still be a trace of it left there.