by Michael Dechane The wind from the west is still unmaking these mountains: each branch and blade tip points toward the sea, the sun...

advent by Sally O’Brien Short days. The dark settles on me like a blanket kept in a damp garage. Every day, I swear I wake up later and...

By Devon Balwit The Koi in today’s pond know nothing of yesterday’s earthquakes. They swim in and out of sky, light reflecting through...

by Michael Dechane A yellow tomato comes apart at the seam my knife makes. This skin: how can it hold so well so much? I salt the weeping...

by Elizabeth Tervo Under sun, the golden crosses shine When the sun bursts through the rapid clouds Gleaming in sympathy. They shine out...

by Deborah Harford there is nothing special about this suffering just an old woman struggling with her body voyaging on against all the...

by Michelle Flores Her head is in my hands now. Hair shaven, eyes closed. A yin and yang of skin and scar. Gently, I rub her velvet...

by Luci Shaw A visitor from outer space, this alien flames from the back hall’s dark floor tile. As if this were its target from the...

by Alison Alstrom As a writer, my work is to remember. All the little things. Not just that my mom didn’t come to the hospital on that...

by Thad DeVassie I’ve walked these wooded paths a hundred times  without so much as a thought about the afterlife, until this morning...

by Paige McBride i live in the skin of starsun and gilt-edged love. in light I lift up your sunstarry eyeless eyes. in shadow white mist...

by  Stephen Cecchini Wildflowers They sway They like to grow on and on Where the toad sleeps a warm slumber blue night The vast of...

by Brandon Marlon We, the people, reenact our salvation, recollecting over matzah and merlot the tide of events escorting us forth from...

And so, death showed up every morning as a first thought, with our school principal  shepherding us seven-year-olds down the streets,...

While filming for the Face of God Film, I’ve had the honour to interview some pretty extraordinary people. One these people is the poet...

written by PAUL T. CORRIGAN Ahab runs loose The pirates chase Ahab The gods chase Ahab The whale chases Ahab Ahab chases Ahab But I say...

written by RAINA JOINES ‘He is a call to the heavens, an open mouth, the dry earth thirsting to receive the rain of heaven.’ —Bulgakov,...

written by KATIE MANNING I have the urge to send you an email. Instead, I read through our long string of messages, chuckling at our...

June: an odd name for a Jewish girl, she’d always thought, particu- larly one who’d been raised, as she had been, squarely in the Jewish...

A baby. Afer all these years of me wanting one and him not wanting one, now he wants a baby. When finally I have lost the desire for one. Our children are seven and five. I don’t know that I can handle a newborn again. I’d thought we were in agreement on the adoption. I look out the window into the night. The trees are leafless and still. The sky must be cloudy because I can’t see any stars. Winter is upon us; the days are cold and sunless. I shiver, wondering if it’s my ski