by Alexandra Panic
A few nights ago, a young woman who has been taking my creative writing classes asked me, Can I write a wrong story? Her question caught me by surprise and even though I promptly answered it in class, it resonated loudly in my mind …
by Janette Schafer
Who are you? What is your name? Who the hell do you think you are? How many times in a life is a person asked these questions, either out of genuine interest, benign conversation, or righteous indignation? What sort of answers do most people give …
by Lily Iona MacKenzie
As a poet, I recognize poetry’s tremendous importance to a society. Still, I can get caught up in the complexities of modern life: I have classes to teach, papers to read and grade, writing projects demanding equal attention, a family to care for. Therefore, it’s …
by Bob Tomolillo
The next few years could pose a challenge for Art, as artists grapple with reality in the age of Donald Trump. Conservative mainstream views on the validity of visual arts have always fallen into the dubious category of unnecessary social programs or useless self-indulgence. Swipes …
by Trevor Zaple
“People die of exposure.” This is a line I’ve used a few times and it gets some laughs, mainly from creatives who feel it all too well. A life spent in art is one in which you have to get used to …
by Richard Luck
To be honest, I don’t remember exactly how I first met Derek.
by Derek Alger
I’ve always had trouble accepting the intricacies of the so-called grown up world, finding the behavior of most adults completely bewildering. This started in childhood with the way I viewed my father. I thought he was strange, whereas he was revered by his peers in …
by Ryan Gleason
It’s the Internet! Poetry is the scripture in the temple!
by Ryan Gleason
My finger drifts along the books’ spines. I insist on being casual, skimming through hundreds of alphabetized names and titles as though they were one relentless, underwhelming sentence.
by S.J. Dunning
My dog leaps from seat to seat, window to window, shaken by
something so much larger than herself, by the wind’s thrust against her jowls.