• Nonfiction

    The Rhythm of Drinking Mates

    By Maria Capezio Crookes You see, a mate is like a period and a space. You take one and then you can start a new paragraph. -Julio Cortazar, Rayuela Mate (pronounced Mah-teh) is a traditional South American drink, brewed from the dried leaves of Yerba Mate (Ilex paraguariensis) in hot water, served in a dried hollow gourd, and briefly steeped. The drink is sucked from the gourd with a metal straw, which is fitted with a strainer at one end to keep leaf particles from the mouth (Encyclopedia Britannica). *** Drinking mates is ceremony. You can’t hurry it up. There is not such a thing as “let’s drink some quick…

  • Fiction

    A Bump in the Road

    By Rosanne Pagano Because Justin was small for having just turned 8 and because he had gotten good at anticipating most of the bumps on weekend drives up to the Connecticut countryside, he could readily and regularly lift up from the Pontiac’s deep backseat to peer into the front, where Nana Mary sat behind the wheel. The speedometer was green, the color of a dragon’s scales, and the needle now read 70 MPH. Justin’s lifting up worked especially well when the Pontiac had left the city streets and turn on to the Merritt Parkway, a long thoroughfare of few but very enjoyable bumps. Following a ribbon-cutting the previous summer, a…

  • Fiction

    Why the Wind Blows: A Fade

    By Rosanne Pagano In a land far from here but not beyond knowing, the east wind blows so long and so hard that every tree leans left, every bush hugs land, and every bird foolish enough to seek shelter is swept off and away to sea. “It’s peculiar, I’ll give you that,” thought the hairy man Niitis. He swung his hairy legs from under the bedclothes and landed hairy feet on the cold floor. The door of his hut stood wide open, blown open sometime in the night. Niitis sighed, long and loud. “Another day and no company but the wind,” he said. This was so: For the giant was…

  • Fiction

    How to Conduct an Interview With Apologies to The Paris Review

    By Rosanne Pagano Over the course of four drizzly weeks in March 2022, a time when both interviewer and subject were on the road, making it hard for one to catch up with the other, writer and APU faculty member Rosanne Pagano met for a scattering of conversations about the how and why of teaching her craft. Pagano, dressed in a V-neck black sweater, faded wide-legged jeans and damp Blundstones, was prompt and organized; she asked for interview questions in advance (not all were supplied) and arrived with brief, messily handwritten notes entered in pencil in the pocket-sized Rhodia notebook she carries everywhere. We met four-and-a half times at a…

  • Academic

    Not for the Streets

    By Samuel Henderson Being human is complex and unique; art, music, religion, technology, morality and self-reflection, set us apart from the rest of the animal kingdom. With so much complexity to our daily lives, it is too easily forgotten that we are animals and belong to nature. We have spent so much time, effort, and money protecting ourselves from the harshness of nature after all. Ironically, human beings belong in nature, we were never meant to thrive in the streets. Overcrowded cities have begun to dominate today’s society, many of which are rampant with crime, pollution, and numerous social issues. We have created a society based around economic success; the…

  • Nonfiction

    “It’s Loud Up Here”

    By Jordan Hales How do you know what to write? Where do the ideas come from? From what is your inspiration pulled? Do you stare at the wall until it tells you what to write? Do you ask Pinterest for writing prompts? Do you wait until someone tells you what to write? How do you know what to write? How does an artist decide what to paint? How does a songwriter find her muse? How does an architect know where to start? How does a dancer know which way to move and shape their body? How does a writer know what to write? How do I—as a writer—know what to…

  • Poetry

    You Old Dog

    By Miles Dennis You were born, one among many, and from the very start You were never alone Your mother and your siblings were all you knew A dune of moving fur to roll on and wrestle with Though you hurt each other On needle-teeth Bites and scratches Your orange coats never showed red Because it was all play, your children’s games And one day they were gone They picked you up and Carried you away and They were frightening and You missed mother and All your brethren and yet The ones who took you Loved you all the same They held you and Sat for hours in that warm…

  • Nonfiction

    The Haircut

    By Mario Jose F Vinoya Content Warning: animal abuse It was January 31, 2022, a bright sunny Monday over the city of Anchorage, with cold winds of 10 degrees. I was only supposed to be gone for an hour and a half, only to get a haircut from my friend during the early morning of 11 am. The haircut was supposed to be a new change for me, as I was starting in-person on the school campus the following week. I had excitement in my stomach to meet new people and try a new look. I was done with these thin strands of Asian hair on my head because it…