by Valerie Laken | Oct 1, 2019 | Nonfiction
Nonfiction by Ryleigh Norgrove On the first morning of September, I stared at the captive world and tapped on the glass. I am sitting at the usual table. In feverish scrawl, I recount the previous night’s escapades, telling my notebook (cuaderno) and her alone....
by Valerie Laken | Oct 1, 2019 | Poetry
By Ed Makowski Ben Clark would sit at the bar all afternoon drinking amber on tap with a little whiskey alongside. He weighed about 108 pounds, maybe. Usually, you had to wake up Ben three or four times before he’d realize where he was, who you were, and that...
by Valerie Laken | Sep 1, 2019 | Poetry
By Courtney DuChene Exist as premonition. Only knownby yellow leaves, by shivers rustling west,and petrified tombs the Cedars wreathedwhen their marsh rippled, splitting open loam.When continents plummeted through orphantsunami, lithe oceanic fingertips,I gaped...
by Valerie Laken | Sep 1, 2019 | Poetry
By Lucy Wan my motheron the narrow streetsthe streetsher old haunther ghostsmy mother her ghostsand mecrowded on these empty streets
by Valerie Laken | Sep 1, 2019 | Nonfiction
Nonfiction by Ariana Eggleston In her 1960 poem, “You’re,” Sylvia Plath described her unborn daughter as a “bent-backed Atlas.” Even in utero, this girl had immense pressure on her, bending her fragile, tiny spine before she had even begun to use it. *** The...