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...
Aurora Bodenhamer I didn’t learn how to read until I was twelve. In my first film, Love in a Blameless Land or How I Gambled It All Away, I was cast to play an intellectually disabled child. My...
Daniel Lurie2026 Poetry Spring Contest Winner There’s nothing as lonely as the long claw of a train horn. Like a tail, three boxcars trail in its wake, the first stuffed with spotted loons...
Adam Gianforcaro I am the least difficult of men. All I want is boundless love.For the loveless world to rile in empathy and reflect itself in the love- drenched puddles of tenderness. To not...
Grace McGovern Watching Once Upon a Time in the West, I am stuck on the saloon door. Harmonica swells, bullets drop, but forget that, watch the corner of the cloth screen, admire this gesture...
Amanda Chiado Every woman displayed in the Museum of Ordinary Women left. Someone blamed the Mexican women in the big colorful skirts for starting the getaway song. Criminal magenta, fuchsia,...
Ross White Some technologies fail, and though I’m sure a few lucky bathers found oscillating tubs under their trees on Christmas morning at the turn of a new century, I bet by ‘01 those...
