• Nonfiction

    In Between

    By Maria Capezio Crookes I am often asked about my immigrant experience, about the things that I miss, the things that I don’t, and if I’d move back home. My answers have been a variation of, “Of course, I miss my family and friends, my people.” Or “I would move back, so my kids can grow closer to their cousins.” For many years I believed those words. After some time, I’d smile while answering with the usual polite platitudes, feeling the leap in my heart telling me I was full of it. Yes, you miss your family, but you wouldn’t move back, my heart would say, while my brain would…

  • 6-Word Memoirs

    6-Word Memoirs

    Wild souls, northern dreams, endless daylight. - Brayden Bluse Bless my clutter, tripping hazard wonder. - Athaliah Duby Today, silence is louder than bombs. - Maria Capezio Crookes (1st place winner) Nothing Can Stop me, I’m Ready. - Lydia Spethman Canadian maple leaves to American mountains. - Marianne Murray One more chapter, I promise. Really. - Maria Capezio Crookes Not normally special but pessimistically optimistic. -Monica Elliott I’ve replicated my DNA, what’s next? - Stephen Koller Bedtime was 40 minutes ago. Again. - Maria Capezio Crookes Sure it’s bedtime? Sun’s still out. - Catherine Benoit A big pot full of spaghetti. - Sami Glascott What doesn’t kill you almost does.…

  • Poetry

    Garden of Prose

    By Jordan Hales Your love grew with Me, and my heart Is covered in stars. Every wish of mine Came true with you. Love’s funny that way. A love like yours Could make a girl Look up and dream. Dreams of every possibility. Dreams of such peace. Dreams of utter understanding. A love like yours Makes a girl put Pen to paper, yes. Yes, that’s what you Have done for me. Such peace of mind. The space to grow Alongside you for better. Twin flames. Twin vines. Reigniting a spark destined To blow out. Space Finally, finally, to breathe. To write all those Words once locked up. Forgotten. Unused. Discarded.…

  • Poetry

    The Dark

    By Jordan Hales I’ve always been afraid of the dark. What a cliche, I suppose.  It just never sat right with me. Never alongside me. Always my opposed.   I try never to be in the dark without a nightlight. You just never know what might getcha.   The dark can be quite loud, if you ask me. Whispering turns to yelling. And it’s eerie, right?   It’s unnerving when I can’t see two feet in front of me. Not knowing what’s in reach, or what’s not.   The noise that festers in the dark is so unwelcoming. So… unhinged.  And that fear and discomfort? It builds and it builds, until something is right…

  • Nonfiction

    Break Up Season

    By Jordan Hales Spring is the time to reset, recharge, and reflect as the earth begins to thaw. The birds chirp in twitter-pation. The trees bud at the sign of warmth and sunshine. It’s breakup season. Dirt and rocks and salt and trash galore. Spring is a sign of hope, or it’s supposed to be, anyway. The darkness is enveloped by light. Pushing it back, back, back. Spring is a refresh, or it’s supposed to be, anyway. Spring is a reflection.    Reflection on everything over the years, not just the past year. January to March is a tricky time. Is? Was? It’s hard to tell—ask me again tomorrow. Memories are…

  • Nonfiction

    Stealing Salmon

    By Maisy Morley Back at home, we live almost completely alone. Our house is tucked away on a windy driveway, pushed back into the forest so deep that you can barely see between the trees. Our neighbors consisted of a strange couple across the street and our three quiet chickens that rummaged around our yard, like New York pigeons. I have only interacted with that strange couple three times: twice when they pulled out of their driveway so quickly they almost hit my parked car, and once when they hollered at us to come pull the trapped silver salmon out of the mud flats.  The day was warm when my…

  • Nonfiction

    A Plum’s Prance

    By Mara Lorch Every barefoot step, skip, or hop within the plum tree’s reach was a risk. As an eight-year-old with a sprinkler wiggling across the grass on a summer’s day, I bounded freely, with shoes and sensibility so far behind my mind, they may as well have fallen out when I somersaulted into the sweet July sunshine. Purple stains the wooden porch, the hands picking, and the feet dancing. The size of a cherry, these plump plums were best eaten whole. Their skin appeared a lilac gray until a fingerprint smudged the matte surface away, uncovering their dark purple shine. A yellow flesh juiced out once bitten, sticking to…

  • Coffee Sleeve Stories

    The Coldest Color

    By Christopher Smith The harshest wind could not break the barrier of the pine. The cold feel of the air only hinted towards what was on the way. Nature’s way of matching the cold feeling was that of the blue sky. Humans have always associated blue with the cold. We tend to see it more when the cold presents itself, ignoring it the rest of the year.

  • Coffee Sleeve Stories


    By Laura Nyman My sister is 14 months older than me, but as kids, strangers would regularly ask if we were twins. Although she has since moved to Washington, we have kept close in our adulthood while trying to be there for each other all the same. Throughout my week, I save specific things for our phone conversations because I know they’ll make her laugh, and she contributes words of older-sibling wisdom in turn. I called her the other day after a rocky week of silence, but once she picked up, I was relieved to hear her answer, “How’d you know?”

  • Coffee Sleeve Stories

    Mutualistic consuming

    By Kelly Aurora Beltane The earthy essence of a bean. Held in a pot. In hot hands. Plants itself on tongue. For a time. I drink and let it sink into my deep channeled nerves, like roots reaching, stabilizing, tapping. Carnivorous coffee steam flower growing open, trapping and consuming my buzzing desire. Sprouted scents condensed against olfactory glands. I stretch toward the sun. You do the same, joe. We both have, before.  As broken down and separated grounds, as new seeds, as those who are just waking.