By Amy Cook We hadn’t had a proper winter, but spring arrived anyway, confoundingly on time. Whatever you might have read about autumn in New York, the first morning the rows of tulips open on Park Avenue, or when the purple hyacinth spirals up through a neighborhood garden, or that cloudless April morning when the [...]
By Jeremy Nathan Marks For Zooey Zephyr The big sky fifty-mile vistas where the Greasy Grass runs willowed valleys sweeping memory from the water to the sky an arrow long ago fired but whose arc is heard surely this land can contain one woman who says of our laws that while we pray to remain [...]
By Emily Hockaday the sky becomes apocalyptic. The air is wool in my throat. I wear a mask to pick my daughter up from school. The fruit vendors sit next to their colorful carts like the world isn’t ending, and I suppose it isn’t for now or it is just very slowly. And what did [...]
By Amelia Díaz Ettinger Never forget, September 20, 2017 and Maria In my La-Z-Boy I sit, a Puerto Rican queen, feet-up admiring my knitted socks. I made these socks by knit and purl. 5,746 miles away from you it is easy to say, I worship. —And oh! How I preach this veneration, the warmth of [...]
By Janis Butler Holm Artist Statement: Fast food, a multi-billion-dollar industry, is slowly killing Americans and others. French fries and what they accompany are not harmless. Janis Butler Holm served as Associate Editor for Wide Angle, the film journal, and currently works as a writer and editor in sunny Los Angeles. Her prose, poems, art, [...]
By Ariel M. Goldenthal The day after the Tree of Life synagogue shooting, I lied to my second-grade students: You are safe at Hebrew school. You will love learning the Aleph-Bet this year. Yes, you can open the windows and feel the early fall air ripple through the gaps between your outstretched fingers. You can [...]
By Kelsey D. Mahaffey “In the book of the earth, it is written: nothing can die.” – Mary Oliver The morning after it happens again—weary with all the thoughtless use of prayer, I return to the Native path— for solace, for remembrance, for release— But grief is a heavy hold. Last night, I lay awake [...]
By Mark Williams I’m scrolling through my Facebook feed—sunsets, cats, lost dogs, cats—when I see a post from a friend I’ve known for thirty-plus years. Someone like someone you know, I bet. Your someone might roof Habitat homes, deliver meals to shut-in’s, conduct sing-a-longs at elder cares, teach kids to read. Without divulging my someone, [...]
By Christina Hennemann We rest on this earth where they once ploughed, the sweat and laughs formed freckles under the sun and soil sloppy on shoelaces; my mother stumbled over a rock, stitches on cheek, her needle and thread that sewed my socks, my curtains, shade from the blazing truth out there, we’re invading our [...]
By Janna Miller At camp, Julie told me I had to let her scratch my arms until they bled to be friends, and Julie told me to get lost in the woods or she wouldn’t talk to me, and Julie told me to do something I forget what, but I signed up for a canoe [...]
By Mercedes Lawry Beneath the ground a green thunder, roots weave among limbs of the fallen, so war digs and swallows and the birds still etch the smoking sky. Prayers falter, disappear. How do we watch from afar, our fingers twitching, our thoughts but ashes? Hopeless it seems as the rusty wheel of history creaks [...]
Summer's upon us, and wild flowers have painted California's landscapes brilliant. The flowers' seeds can lie dormant for decades, emerging only when their soil is disturbed. While the works in this issue have been inspired by seemingly countless disturbances confronting us today, may the poppies inspire hope and action. In the meantime, we're delighted to present [...]
By Camille Lebel The First Time, Reclaimed I choose the boy who calls every night to discuss a million nothings, our voices hushing when my mother picks up the line. Sitting behind me in history, watching footage of the earth imploding, his finger traces the one-inch ribbon of skin exposed between low-rise [...]
By Bänoo Zan For Nika Shakarami 1 At your memorial 2 the Luri 3 song echoed on speakers: “Mother, mother, it’s time for war . . .” 4 Today would have been your birthday Forty days before on the streets of Tehran dead girl—living God— burning your hijab— darkness on fire— your Derafsh-e Kavian 5— [...]
By Andrea Dulanto I. Yes, I wore the thrift store T-shirts, the torn fishnets, but I was no riot grrrl. I was already in my twenties when I read about riot grrrls in Newsweek, too old to write manifestoes on my body. No, it was more like I was too afraid of music that gets into [...]
