Samuel Piccone Not a spread too big. Too brightly littered with faith. How long one can soften into night, I can’t say. There’s so much waterI hardly notice: the snow and snowing, the bathtub...
Donna Vorreyer The quiet of the woods feathers my brain,and my tongue magentas with beets. Still I’m restless and cannot sleep. I can’t explain the shadow’s abstractions—how the coat rack...
SP Mulroy The thresher like a wicked god calls children to its mouth,gnashing locust teeth to taste the fingers in the grain. What passes through the graveyard gate can never walk back out. Beneath...
Thuy Phan Summer, 1998 When the plane touched the tarmac, I knew my mom and I were somewhere else because of the smell – exhaust fumes mixed with grassy herbs and overripe jackfruit – in a...
Lane Michael Stanley 2026 Fiction Contest Winner Content Warning: This story discusses the following sensitive topics: substance abuse and early recovery. We walk every morning at sunrise—not all...
“Old Fishmarket Street”Acrylics and acrylic pens on canvas “View From the Attic”Skylight Acrylics and acrylic pens on canvas “Leaving the Giant Chicken Spaceship in the...
there is an abandoned house at the edge of my grandparents’ property line, behind a fence, barbed and electric. wheatgrass blends into the overgrowth, red fescue, thistle, knotweed. my grandfather...
“Lump in My Throat”colored pencil on wooden board Rebecca Wood is a full-time teacher and a part-time artist living in Prescott, Arizona. She earned her MFA in Fiction at the University...
Matthew Torralba Andrews A History of Smoking I miss when a visit to Tita Min’s house involved me holding a pretzel stick to my lips, mimicking my aunt, so confident and composed over her San...
T.C. Martin2026 Nonfiction Spring Contest Winner Today you are thinking that to be fat is to feel an inscrutable connection to the color yellow. It was there, on the side. In a little white ceramic...
