A narrow winding creek cuts through flat plains of sagebrush. Slender elms line the banks beneath granite cliffs still topped with snow in summer. The term “American Alps” gets thrown around about this place but ...
Heber by Kent Quaney
Nonfiction
The Last Song of the World by Joseph Fasano
Review by Nicole Yurcaba
Interview by Tiffany Troy
Publisher: BOA Editions
Publication Date: October 4 , 2022
ISBN: 9781960145352
Pages: 178
Over the Myths and Through ...
THE LAST SONG OF THE WORLD BY JOSEPH FASANO Review by Nicole Yurcaba, Interview by Tiffany Troy
Book Reviews
It’s a sin to call the horses beautifulbut they were, their hooves a miracleflaring fire with each beat—I shouldn’t remember it this way,but it was August. Or December.Creepers choked trashcans & stucco,the ...
Only Once Driving to Cincinnati by Kirk Schlueter
Poetry
I got a new smell. It’s oily, leathered, minklike. It turns heads on the bus, clears whole cars on the train. Most times it walks five paces ahead. I follow it into any number of restaurants or bars, sliding past ...
New Smell by Eric Cecil
Flash Fiction
To Die, to LiveI pushed his wheelchair down the ramp. Away from white walls, from disinfected roomsand the grey of the dying. Away from the stench of iodine,from blinking monitors and white ghosts with stethoscopes. But ...
Three Poems by Angelika Quirk Translated by Angelika Quirk
Translations
Rothko wanted to paint basic human emotion. So he painted red over red over red. Behind the colour he was looking for light. In 1942 he painted The Sacrifice of Iphigenia, where Iphigenia is not a girl, but a black ...
Rothko/ On Fear by Ollie Cowley
Poetry
Samuel and David were born in the same year at opposite ends: New Year’s Day and New Year’s Eve. They only knew their birthdays because their mothers were able to labor in peace, and that’s something their mothers ...
Make by Misha S. McDaniel
Fiction
“Mom.”
“Mom.”“Mom!”“Momma, look!”“Mom!“Look, Momma!”“Look!”
My coffee will never be strong enough. I stir the pancake mix while the pan heats. A little bowl of concrete. The morning ...
You’re Gonna Miss It by Jen Eve Thorn
Flash Fiction
I could see him. He was defying the hot temperature with his deep breathing. He appeared anxious. His bare feet bounced on the ground, repeatedly striking the sand’s dust. On him was the smell of blood that was ...
Life Is Us by Hüseyin Babacan Translated by Aysel K. Basci
Translations
