Writing is an act of resistance
-
Displacement
By Antony Owen I am the fox-flame in the wood jumping through snow an ember chased to extinction by lesser beasts. I am permanent as the moth in amber its patterns decided by the white sun its fate decided by the earthlings. I am the glass-blower’s lips’ creation to consume whatever is put in…
-
Beowulf
reproductive rights, Narrative nonfiction, Irene Cooper, reproductive freedom, keep abortion legal safe and accessibleBy Irene Cooper While my glamorous friend Anne underwent her abortion, I sat at a lunch counter and ate a grilled cheese sandwich and a chocolate shake before returning to the abortion clinic in the urban grid of Brooklyn. I sat in the waiting area and read Beowulf, assigned by my high school sophomore…
-
“I can experience joy alone”
By Tristan Richards I meditate on this line while hiking away from the waterfall, and a doe pokes her head out of the snow, watching me, her eyes black and beady, her body sandy, the color of spring gravel turned mud. She is beautiful. I freeze, my heart in my throat. I become too…
-
National Portrait Gallery
[fusion_builder_container hundred_percent=”no” hundred_percent_height=”no” hundred_percent_height_scroll=”no” hundred_percent_height_center_content=”yes” equal_height_columns=”no” menu_anchor=”” hide_on_mobile=”small-visibility,medium-visibility,large-visibility” class=”” id=”” background_color=”” background_image=”” background_position=”center center” background_repeat=”no-repeat” fade=”no” background_parallax=”none” enable_mobile=”no” parallax_speed=”0.3″ video_mp4=”” video_webm=”” video_ogv=”” video_url=”” video_aspect_ratio=”16:9″ video_loop=”yes” video_mute=”yes” video_preview_image=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” margin_top=”” margin_bottom=”” padding_top=”” padding_right=”” padding_bottom=”” padding_left=””][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ layout=”1_1″ spacing=”” center_content=”no” link=”” target=”_self” min_height=”” hide_on_mobile=”small-visibility,medium-visibility,large-visibility” class=”” id=”” background_color=”” background_image=”” background_position=”left top” background_repeat=”no-repeat” hover_type=”none” border_size=”0″ border_color=”” border_style=”solid”…
-
What Is Truth?
By Wells Burgess Deep in the South, men gather. First among equals, the Kingfish, upstage, and it is only he whose face you see; his minions – that includes me, Markie – have their backs to you. The Boss plays solitaire; the cards slap the table. “Markie,” he says, where we gon’ put that…
-
September Together
By Elizabeth Shack Last September, we hiked the forest beside the fog-drenched sea. Followed a swift stream bridged with salmon spawning, returning from gray Pacific homes. Switchbacked beside a waterfall sparkling down steep granite. Emerged into sunlight with a view of lichen-painted rock and the blue-white ice that once sculpted this verdant valley. Is…
-
A Woman of Good Manners
By Nikki Blakely It is a universal truth that a man of good fortune must be in want of a wife, and Jayne set her sights on Edward, despite his reputation for being of a most disagreeable character. On their first date, they went to Possum Pond. Jayne had always been told the way…
-
Scylla
By Bex Hainsworth A nymph unburdened by beauty is a nightmare. My barnacle flesh scratches against stone as I curl up in my cave, full of octopus cunning; folding many limbs around myself, cruel, content. This was Circe’s gift: to make me a monster, a maneater. The distant roar of Charybdis rocks me to…
-
Islands of No Nation
Northern Mariana islands, Poetry, Ada Ardére, Guam, U.S. colonialism, Puerto Rico, U.S. imperialism, American Samoa, U.S. Virgin IslandsBy Ada Ardére We give them our children to fight in jungles and deserts, we give them our taxes to pave their roads, we give them our land to build their businesses, we give them our coasts to moor their battleships, we give them our waters to test nuclear weapons, and we have received…