• Nonfiction,  Poetry

    One Hundred Thousand Chevy Tahoes

    By Allen Ginnett If you were to ask me to describe Anchorage, Alaska in one sentence, with no hesitation I would respond, “Imagine a hundred thousand Chevy Tahoes.” To put it perspective, take away all preconceived notions of Alaska and imagine a transparent box of metal and glass with no blind spot vision. Combine these elements with a dolly and I can take any car I want. This is power in the black market of bartering off the internet; that’s just an example. The Tahoe is an asset, an advantage, a tool to live life to the fullest in a extreme climate like Alaska. Today I’m located in the most…

  • Nonfiction

    The Six Year Old Inside of Me

    By Allen Ginnett My stomach was rumbling as I tried to pay attention to the teacher. I had not ate all day and I smoked a bunch of weed; this was not the feeling. “Blah, blah-blah, blah, blah-blah.” The teacher continued to talk as I sat in my chair and attempted to listen but the rumbling in stomach was too intense. It was like a baby was kicking inside me; weird. “Blah, Blah-blah, blah and I swear Allen has a six year old inside of him sometimes the way he structures his writing.” Bam, it hit me like a ton of bricks. Everything in my entire life was put in…

  • Nonfiction

    First Day

    By Marcel Bergeron 2003 was my final year of high school. It would also be the last time I would attend a formal school for over a decade. I spent most of my high school career battling disappointment, fear, and confusion as I struggled to complete my classes. I eventually came to a point in life when I realized that to advance in my career, I needed to further my education. With a good support system and a lot of encouragement from my wife, I mustered the courage in 2016 to apply for college at Alaska Pacific University. That spring I opened a letter from APU and read the black,…

  • Nonfiction

    A Family Tradition

    By Fari Sylvester My mother grew up without a lot of family traditions, so she and her four brother and four sisters decided to create a tradition of their own. In 2000, we took our first family trip with 45 people to Homer for the Memorial Weekend. My mom and her siblings grew up in Homer, so this wasn’t their first stroll down the Homer beach. My mom was excited to share their stories and reminisce about life growing up. Fast forward to 2017, and we have kept this tradition alive. My brother Derrick has become the leader of the pack. There are 34 of us first-cousins and it’s a…

  • Nonfiction

    The Summer of the Pitchfork

    by Quinn Berry This was the summer before my sophomore year of high school, so about four or five years ago. I was out in my backyard digging holes to plant apple trees. Although the trees we were going to plant weren’t my favorite (Red Delicious is obviously the best choice, considering it has the word “delicious” in the name), I wasn’t going to argue with trees that provided apples without making a trip to the store. What I was a bit upset about was the fact that I had to dig the holes on my own. Being not the smartest 15-year-old, I decided to start digging the holes only…

  • Nonfiction

    Jesus Lives in My Head

    by Allen Ginnett I rap under the alias, “Based Jesus.” I have the spirit of Jesus within me. I have sacrificed a lot to do what I want. Life wasn’t always like this for me. At one time I was young and naive, wandering around vulnerable to the world’s danger, unaware of what force was driving my existence. My friend Sergio has an older brother named Donte. Donte was sort of the bully growing up. But not like the bully that you might of grew up with the cliche make fun of you or give you a wedgie type bully, I’m talking more of like a drug dealer on edge,…

  • Nonfiction,  Poetry

    Today as an American

    By Allen Ginnett I wake up everyday- with intention. Intention to change. I have the freedom to decide who I am. Who is that person? You may ask, but the answer is right in front of you. I am American. Watch me smile because I am happy; Feel me when I hurt. “Wow!” How do I express how thankful I am? By enjoying every minute of it. I am American. Today I told my mom, pride was a bad thing. But, I am proud to be American. Let me push forward, adapt. Be proud to be proud. Bring forth the bad habits. We can take it all on. American is…

  • Nonfiction

    I Miss You

    by Johanna Kumpula I grew up missing someone I never knew; a role model turned monster. When I was born, my father started drinking. He would leave in the middle of the night and hole up in a musky bar with cheap beer and stale peanuts. Sometimes he would be gone for weeks, with no explanatory note or phone call to check in. When he finally did return home, he smelled of alcohol and fruity perfume. My mom would be worried of course, all she wanted was a simple explanation on why he didn’t call, but his excuses were pathetic. He would get mad, because she didn’t believe him or…

  • Nonfiction

    Isabella Becomes a Poet

    by Isabella Valdez Anyway, there’s this video circulating of me reciting Ocean Vuong’s “Anaphora as a Coping Mechanism,” and it’s a pretty clean read for the first minute and forty-two seconds, until, at one forty-three, I stumble over the phrase “smoke-soaked skin,” first straying, “snoke-smoked,” then sputtering out, “soaked,” so off beat it grows wings and abandons the poem, completely fucking up the meter, and it’s at this point that you, the viewer, can tell that I’m for real affected by this collection of words even though, and this footnote is not included in the recording, I’ve never actually lost someone I’ve loved. But, really, I’m concerned for myself here.…

  • Nonfiction

    Sparrow

    by Allison O’Leary I hope you decide to come home one day. I hope that as the days get colder, your tiny house stays warm. I hope you treat her with kindness and patience, and your heart mends itself until the ice melts away.  I hope you can forget all the things half-said and the things we did to hurt each other. I hope you are as full of as much strength and love as the wool your mother weaves into sweaters for your father. I have so much hope for you, my sparrow. You were only trying the best that you could. I will love you and love you…