Down a Hole

Poetry by Scott Dalgarno for Lucie Brock-Broido When I was very young every once in a while there’d be a black-n-white report on television of some child that had fallen down a well or who had gotten stuck in an impossible crevice somewhere deep in the earth and all day and half the night it … Read More

Roses and Honeysuckle

Poetry by Nancy R. Yang The afternoon’s calm rhythmic clicking, the chime the grandfather clock at Nana’s the hall dark and scary like a tunnel the back room, the rocking horse a fall to the hardwood floor, my nosebleed. Nana’s warmth, my head near hers as the pain waned. The memory blends of South Carolina, … Read More

Father says to bow our heads

Poetry by Nancy R. Yang Sometimes when I fret I see sugar chalk on malted chocolate, in dreams, hidden prizes in grass, bunnies and bibles, long altar calls: Lord, I come over and over my young stomach rumbles while Mom holds the red-covered hymnal down so I see, so I sing along: watermelon, watermelon, deviled … Read More

Spring Trip to the Lake

Poetry by Nancy R. Yang the rented house on the water its iron statue of a horse on the lawn and forget-me-nots scattered like glitter the freeway in the distance is a white whir. The ride in the car for barbecue, windows down so everyone can see my face. Like the little boys turning their … Read More

A Horse Ran Amok

Poetry by Shari Neva Hollander A horse ran amok Or so it seemed to those watching But in his singular mind, it was a dash Through spring pastures as a colt A sprint to the finish line as a yearling His last furlong as an old stud Before consigning himself To the hay in the … Read More

The Essence

Fiction by Christine Ahern “The Essence” is an Editor’s Choice selection for this issue. Sophia brought the cinnamon stick to her nose. Would this be it? Was this where she would find him? She closed her eyes and saw the image of Robert rolling out pie crust dough. She pictured his hands as they chopped … Read More

Melissa

Nonfiction by Heather Campbell I was afraid to speak to you at the start. You were a writer, I was not. You were accomplished, I was not. People tend to lay down different aspects of themselves, depending on who they are with, but you were always beautifully you. You were kind and thoughtful, and you … Read More

The Light of Luna Madre

Fiction by C.S. Perryess The icy night wind strikes me in the face. It pushes my back against the adobe graveyard wall. Such a wind, born high in the Juarapa Mountains—born of snow and ice. Along the way, through the high deserts of Buitre Blanca, such a wind collects ghosts and cactus needles. Perhaps Adolfo … Read More