On a dark afternoon of half-rain, Rampart planes old-growth redwood seeking the precise intersection between growth rings. This is how he holds the wood: he feeds it in flat and gets the hell out of the way. (more…)
We smoked from his father’s stash in the glove box of the truck, then showered, washing each other’s hair. The master bath had this antibacterial stone tile, and we sat in the rain for a long time.
Afterwards I stayed, drying my hair, using his mother’s moisturizers. (more…)
The lamp on the hallway armoire is unplugged, so the stairs leading up to the room are in darkness. As a result, we can’t remember the last time we went there. We don’t know why someone doesn’t simply plug in the light. Why we don’t. Perhaps it wouldn’t work. Maybe the bulb is burnt out. Maybe there’s no bulb at all. (more…)
Poetry, creative nonfiction, and fiction/prose poetry submissions are now open. Check out our new category triptychs! The submission period closes December 15, 2108; submit here.
09/17 • Nance Van Winckel
09/24 • Wendy Barker