By Grant Jarrett / Nonfiction / Her mouth hangs open, her face is pale and pleated, her lips dry and crusty, like stale pastry. She is...

By Ernest Langston / Fiction / The two-lane road curved up and into a pine tree forest. Country-styled houses were sprinkled along the...

By Ashley Pattison-Scott / Nonfiction / In The Mother of Junk shop in Williamsburg, I stand very still. Yellow insulation hangs from a...

By Susan Knox / Nonfiction / I was a forlorn five-year-old in 1946 when we left the bungalow where I’d lived all my life. I loved that...

By Iris Harris / Fiction / “I know it’s your week with Sam starting tonight, but I don’t think you need to come all the way down to the...

By Kay Parke / Poetry / The sweetness of a summer peach on the tongue, daylily’s orange bloom lasts a single sun’s round, day’s crimson...

By John Fried * for bf / Fiction / Louise sat at the bar, working on that day’s crossword, waiting for her date to arrive. He was late....

By Adrienne Oliver / Poetry / Silence isn’t quiet. Quiet is the sound of homes falling asleep or car traffic dying down and restaurants...

By Joseph Byrd / Poetry / Half seeing is whole seeing, if being clear is the ultimate opacity. Once I had the audacity to be found...

By Jonathan Chan / Poetry / “I needed unerased paper, transparent faith. That’s how that day went for me.” - Shin Hae Uk, trans....

By Ed Davis / Fiction / Marla hadn’t been home five minutes before the doorbell rang. Shit. She’d’ve ignored it except she was expecting...

By S.J. Pearce / Poetry / Cast on fifteen stitches in tiny yarn: gauge-one needles, a millimeter thick, and knit yourself an amulet: a...

By Loren Mayshark / Fiction / Thom grabs a plastic grocery basket with four wheels, three of them askew, and drags it into the Hemköp...

By Allisa Cherry / Poetry / Cut it all back I hear myself tell him. All the bright length I kept as my hair grew in silver. Eight or nine...

By Mara Adamitz Scrupe / Nonfiction / Arriving for my shift, I climb the stairs directly up to the low-ceilinged third floor. Once...

By LaRita Dixon / Poetry / I remember the day I discovered that I was a black woman I had looked into mirrors all my life And I had seen...