Nicholas was the kind of boy everyone described as full of life. The kind of boy who wore out jeans and shoes and mitts but never his welcome. The kind of boy parents treasure. Nicholas may have suffered a schoolhouse … Continue reading →

i. I sit across from you sapphires meeting icy blues words spilling like a downpour on thirsty rain forests. The phrases are diminutive. See, it’s not what you say it’s what you don’t.

The long wooden table, the soft velvety voice lulling us to pick up our pens and travel to the untold images of our senses. Gold winged birds perched up top evergreen-looking trees, construction saws grinding, the ocean framing the horizon. … Continue reading →

“What matters now, Jesse, is that you fall asleep easily tonight and do not wake up when I put you down into your crib,” I think as I enter my apartment. Your nanny Peeka hands you over to me. She … Continue reading →

She lived life guided by a lacy mythology, dreamily wandering and occasionally skipping along as if her path was crocheted by Belgian nuns. She believed that even the holes and gaps were there by design. She could turn a troubling … Continue reading →

Here’s our December issue to bring in some light! Our featured writers are Carol Harada, Jack Dever, LiAnne Yu, Daniel Raskin, Merijane Block, and Ellen Thompson. Go to Next Post to read on.

The thread is loose, the thread is loose. And there’s no tying it up. Or maybe there is. Melodious Elodie could take her half-fingered glove, the injured one whose woolen gut is cut and streaming, to the hospital.

Dad! Did you ever own a ’94 LeMans? What? Did you own a ’94 LeMans? Yeah. When? After you got out of college. So why do you still have the receipt for an oil change from 1998?

1. Always buy the expensive umbrella because you won’t find another, cheaper one later on. And you’ll get soaked. 2. Always carry toilet paper with you. Especially in China. And Egypt. And even in Paris.

In June when Long Island Sound warms to swimming temperature, my father says at Friday dinner, “I hear the porgies are running.” I wonder what my father is going to say next?

It is so quiet here. And I am so tired now. Perhaps because of the time of day, the natural time of fatigue, maybe because of the brief intoxication from sugar, deliciously crafted into dessert, and the all-too-soon fall from … Continue reading →

Bird with sprig in its beak. That would be my chicken, the one who has escaped and covered every inch of scratched earth with a sprout of thyme or something invasive—lemon balm, scotch broom…at least that’s how I imagine these … Continue reading →

Welcome to our inaugural issue! Our featured writers are Addie Jenkins, Iris Fluellen, Gayle Ross, Merijane Block, Susanna Marie Anderson, Branwyn Holroyd, Christopher P. DeLorenzo, Luana, Daniel Raskin, Julie Nicholson, Elizabeth Terzakis, Cathy Schwabe, and Kaye Lesley Cleave.  

Kintsugi – More beautiful having been broken I’d like to think that this is true of hearts but I’m not really sure

“When you go to Barcelona, think of me,” said Charlotte’s mom, “and remember how I encouraged you to stay on top of the situation.”

Space between stars like black windows or, blue before it gets late. Look through to what can’t be seen.

I spoke of you today. I did not say your name. I think of you today, when we eat cake for breakfast. How, at the meetings, tiny as you were to begin with, as diminished as you came to be … Continue reading →

Eat yourself Prepare your tomb Crawl inside your little womb Let it go and turn to mush Tell the doubters now to hush Eyes dividing Wings for flying Futures now are multiplying