Laura Winkelspecht Car trip, 1977 Family stuffed in a station wagon with wood-grained sides: little kids tumbled in the way-back, big kids on the bench seat, legs never touching Laura Winkelspecht is a poet who doesn’t write enough poetry and feels really guilty about it.
Read MoreLaura Winkelspecht Past Tense I still find myself talking about you in present tense like you’re still here to add tales to our story, but our verbs occupy the past now, a dying language where I am the last fluent speaker longing for just one more conversation. Laura Winkelspecht is a poet who doesn’t write […]
Read MoreWyeth Renwick pitter patter As the radio drones on, the child’s bright sun is washed away in the pitter patter of the pouring rain. Wyeth Renwick is a twelve-year-old girl living in Los Angeles.
Read MoreAlyssa McMurtry Language One love is two words. Alyssa McMurtry is a Canadian writer living in Northern Spain.
Read MoreScott Hughes Schrödinger’s Rejection Letter When I find a new email in my inbox from a journal I submitted to, I wait to open it because in that moment my writing is simultaneously rejected and accepted. Scott Hughes has an upcoming chapbook titled The Last Book You’ll Ever Read and a website: writescott.com.
Read MoreRenee LaBonte-Jones Plaster ‘I think I fell in love with your father ‘because of his smile,’ she lied, ‘he was so tender, so kind.’ Renee LaBonte-Jones writes from her Seattle home, often with a cat on her lap and a white wine in her hand.
Read MoreAlandya Durand Distinct Difference When you said you had something to tell me my heart dipped an inch because for once the silence between us was audible, louder than the car that passed by right after playing music so loud its speakers were shaking. Alandya Durand has a huge liking for philosophical discussions at any […]
Read MoreMEH his freshman year When eyes bulge with the longing of a fish head on a French plate, for the son who finds his father’s body just where the old man left it— note pinned to the coat hung limp around his shoulders, final spasms timed for an after school arrival like a glass of […]
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