By CD Steele / Poetry /       There are fish that protect their young  by holding them      in their mouths You are bones   pinched between two fingers I want to keep you    in my cheek In life  you would have tasted like gin  and smoke There are cultures in South America that ritually eat their dead During Spanish colonization Queen Isabella commanded none to be   enslaved but those that ate  human flesh There were more cannibals after that. The Amahuaca people of what is no

By Caressa Layne / Fiction /   Turning a light on by the bedside, Etta found her housecoat and shoved one arm through, then the...

By Pam Clements / Flash /   Crushed oyster shells, attractive crunchy walking paths, exist all over the South Carolina lowcountry. ...

By Patricia Gray / Poetry /   In Ethiopia we have seen many eclipses.  We just heat glass until it is smoked and look through it at...

By Gale Huxley / Fiction / Elaine was found in the city woods, where a few too many walked. Her eyes had been half-digested in a...

By Peggy L. Shrum / Third Place, 2023 Plentitudes Prize in Nonfiction / A tree just fell. It must have been really close by; I startled...

By Cindy Dean Jones / Second Place, 2023 Plentitudes Prize in Nonfiction / And on a day when I most desperately needed hope, when the...

Sans Souci, Trinidad By Ivy Raff / Poetry / Terrible as she is turquoise, the sea chops, roars, wakes shock of forest-clothed hills,...

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

by JoAnn Zhang / Poetry / A thick blue knit tucks over the edge, over and over some massless thing the fishermen cannot see. They go by...

by Mark Belair / Poetry / A dark cloud cover broods by hauling a hole above which a darker, yet colder cloud cover holds. * Ice cubes,...

by Gail Nielsen / Poetry / I once threw caution to the wind but the direction changed, and it was snagged by the branch of an aspen at...

by Iris Litt / Poetry / It tried to die with my mother whether from neglect or empathy we’ll never know. My son the gardener and...

by Eric Machan Howd / Poetry / We creep slowly outside hands full of apples beyond crispness - a venture for good we see as salvation....

by Kay Parke / Poetry / Stunned by the moment, by the sunrise light golden in my studio, shining through even the leaves of the plants on...