• Nonfiction

    The Deconstruction of a Hypochondriacal Ego

    by Hillary Hafner Our world revolves around time and money. I believe a person’s moral standing is determined by how one chooses to spend one’s time and money, and that the most ethical way to spend time and money is benevolently. An individual’s responsibility is proportionate to their ability to affect. For example, corporations can influence multitudes of people and are now considered under law to be individuals. Thus, they ought to be affecting people positively and serving as examples of benevolence. However, we live in an egoist world and according to Hobbes, our egoism is innate. We are presented daily with choices-large and small- that give us the power…

  • Nonfiction

    I.B.H.

    You caught me honey-bee I always thought I was a wasp With a grin sting, turning green In the porch light, no, though. I turned out to be a moth with Soft wings, coming off on your fingertips I’m grateful for the bees, he says: You will hive me forever. On those movies It was only the words that turned me: each One an aphotic kelp forest, swirling otters Coming up and over the sweating sun. Antediluvian moments, he used to call them, The seven deluges you carved out in old Display cases, native beads, Asian threads. I realized the honey was mine all along. I swear on summer: the…

  • Poetry

    Death of An English Shepherd at Flanders Fields

    By L.J. Bosela Bombs are falling thick Set me free, let me run My heart stops its’ beat In this hour of my death Save me, Lord, take me home. Clutch my beads, shout a prayer My fate is sealed like a tomb.Close my eyes, see the cross A priest offering up the Sacrament, We are the hallowed flesh Given up by those we do not see An easy, near-forgotten sacrifice To the masters of our war. Our blood is naught but A cheap, unconsecrated libation. And now the crimson earth is Drunk with blood of the nations.Out beyond my trench- A fitting grave for this mass of men- The…

  • Nonfiction

    Johnnie Tegstrom

    by Mike Gordon Just because you’ve known someone your whole life doesn’t necessarily mean you’re friends with them. Never mind that you were raised in the same neighborhood, went through Boy Scouts together, played in the school band together, got drunk for the first time together, were in school classes together year after year; 7th grade through high school graduation. I remember more friction between Johnnie and me during all those years than anything else.  Sure, there were some good times we enjoyed together, but Johnnie was the big kid and I was the little kid, though we were the same age. When I turned 16 and got my driver’s…

  • Nonfiction

    Removing the Mask of Grief with Shelby Coleman and Connor Tindall

    by Ryan Shofner The ephemeral nature of life dawns upon all beings. One day, the powers that be remove someone special from our lives and from that day forth, life is forever changed. It is what we do with the loss and how we handle the days to come that matters. February 21, 2014: I interview Shelby and Connor, facilitators of the Young-adult, Peer-supported, Greif Group, Co-sponsored and supervised by the Hospice of Anchorage and the University of Alaska Anchorage School of Nursing that caters to 18-30 year-old individuals. Christina, an intern of the Hospice of Anchorage and assistant of Shelby and Connor sums up the group: “We provide a…

  • Fiction

    Equanimity

    by Megan Baker Swirls of something and nothing flow as rivers of sand in my dreams, teasing me with little glimpses of him. My daydreams told me he would show up at the perfect moment, scoop me off my feet, and we would ride off into the sunset on a white stallion. Reality told me otherwise. My life was everything but ordinary. I spent my childhood battling aliens in distant galaxies, saving earth from the malicious wizards who use black magic to threaten the innocent, and brawling nasty ghouls who threatened to take away my superhuman abilities. On the shore society curse the brave sailors of the mind who dare…

  • Fiction

    Cosmos

    by Alexa Dobson Good evening, friends. My name is Neil DeGrasse Tyson, and I’d like to thank you for joining me for the thirteenth and final episode of Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey. Over the past twelve weeks, we’ve traveled through both space and time, exploring the depths of space, our own planet and even our minds. We know that the observable universe was born nearly fourteen billion years ago in a fiery explosion, and since then, countless stars and planets have coalesced into galaxies and solar systems not too different from our own. In our little corner of the universe, life has grown and flourished for thousands of millions of…

  • Nonfiction

    The Hired Gun

    by Mike Gordon There was a motorcycle gang in Anchorage named The Brothers in the early ‘70s.  Rumor had it that when one of them died the rest of them would cremate him, roll some of him into a marijuana joint and smoke him.  Now that’s taking brotherly love to an all new high. In the early 1970’s someone in the gang got the bright idea of teaming up with the Hell’s Angels, which they did, so then we had The Brothers roaring around town in Hell’s Angels colors.  If they decided to visit your bar they would typically hang in a group and intimidate everyone else in the place,…

  • Nonfiction

    Drinking = Glamorous?

    by Tara Bales Drinking is widely considered, and referred to in the entertainment industry as, cool. Whether it’s a teen house party scene in a movie where all partygoers are clinging to / chugging from red Solo cups, country songs whose sole purpose is the celebration of the aforementioned cups, or websites like Texts from Last Night that alternately mock and salute what is more often than not alcohol-fueled behavior, we as a society generally glorify and add an almost shiny luster to the antics of one who has consumed alcohol to excess. Professional athlete and celebrity “role models” convicted of DUIs are given a slap on the wrist and…

  • Poetry

    The Irish Sweepstakes

    By Sarah Felder Snow now is only means of weathered transport: Sleep in hinged places just so I can See the bricked fire char and breathe, Lighting the burgundy flooring. I wrote this letter a generation ago; When all those lit Augusts were Nothing but spruce, spurs, spinning And growing up and over on the Chain- link. I wasn’t in the light then because I didn’t understand the destiny of being Born in the first place: I hadn’t re-taught my youngdom To begin again. I contemplate your breathing beats, What they were when I was young: The flaws in our own ticking machines, My dinner to the floor, rocking my…