Category: Fall 2013


      POETRY Kelli Allen | Victoria Marie Bee | Britt Gambino |  Alex Greenberg |  Alan King   Sandra Kohler |  Jake Levine | Victoria McArtor |  Jennifer Mccauley | Michelle Patton | Eric Schwerer | Mai Der Vang  FICTION Chelsea Bolan | Brandon French | David Hollander NONFICTION Bridget Clifford

  • Victoria McArtor

    AS YOUTH CONCLUDES The best advice I can give about falling is about landing, the darkness says. Darkness does not overtake light, the clock says. Sounds of laugher fading way, the season says. The body doesn’t know how to lie, the lie says. Misremembering is in itself revealing, the lie says. I can only be […]

  • David Hollander

    KUTYA  (excerpted from the novel-in-progress, Anthropica) At a very early age the boy had discovered the problem of causal determinism and renounced any lingering affection for the grim ontology through which he toiled. He had been standing on the bridge that led from his family’s farmstead on the outskirts of Kecel, Hungary, to the town […]

  • Chelsea Bolan

    KITE Mamá’s really wanting me out of the house, but I’m not going, not yet; I’m raiding the place for things I’ll need. I can’t find the scissors. I’m looking in every drawer in the kitchen. I’m looking in the box of Mamá’s sewing stuff. They’re not under the couch or under the cushion where […]

  • Britt Gambino

    THE OTHER ROOM An affair is a room to disappear into for a few hours, another place to hide. – Nick Flynn I. Your brown freckles come after the wine-tongue sky I’m sucked in between your teeth, my skin neon-lighting for a fling. I go home to the shared towels and locks. We get up […]

  • Michelle Patton

     ACCIDENTS OF HISTORY This is not about the smell of trees. I will not mention the names of flowers or loam. Loam will not appear in this poem. There is no frost on the barn, no soft snow falling. It never snows in this poem. Only consider an empty field in a neighborhood of tract […]

  • Mai Der Vang

    UNTIL NOWHERE Go until there’s no more galaxy, Until all the going is given And I touch green as sneeze, Always cranberry, a crow upstairs. All I have to do is clutch This hour’s pulse, then flee The palace mad as honeymoon After the king gives me back My history in a homesick bowl. Sign hello fox. […]

  • Victoria Marie Bee

    HER BREAD BAKES WELL In a kitchen soaked with August, she folds and folds the flesh of flour salt yeast and water. Her brow knits softly, as if there’s a secret to baking baguettes in humidity, that only she knows. I remember her white dress in Lake Pontchartrain’s Fourth of July breeze, and how her […]

  • Alex Greenberg

    BIRTHDAY PARTY #15: I once spent an entire summer afternoon outside my house on the bay. While the roses were tying knots on the foot­trail and the moss on the ground had begun to form their own islands, I was behind a place mat at my dining room table, contemplating how a teenager is a lot like a red balloon caught to the flagpole of a school or the spokes of a ramshackle bike. The way the two grapple day in and day out with an adversary unfit to listen, too rugged to feel their pull. The way they hold air inside of them as if to prepare for a great outcry, their lungs filling like the stuffing in a toy bear. But what I really think about is how they both rise the instant you let them go. Head­butted by the wind, continuing because of an energy inside of them that knows only upward. I look at the knife on my napkin. I think about how the only way to bring them down is to puncture them. I think of how their red will spatter everywhere. ______________________________________________ Alex Greenberg is a 14 year old aspiring poet. […]

  • Kelli Allen

    BABA YAGA’S SISTERS The holy women are skinny, their hair loose horse tails swishing blind between what could be shoulder blades, or remnants of hard wings, forgotten, lost, shed. The blessed women weep with sharp tears leaving troughs from cheek to knee, borrowed sorrow of winter bears, scarce badgers. When they allow their fingers to […]