• Playing ‘Exquisite Corpse’ By Myself by M. Perle

        “And it kills me, the word sorry. As if something like music   should be forgiven. He nuzzles into the wood like a lover,   inhales, and at the first slow stroke, the crescendo      seeps through our skin like warm water, we   who have nothing but destinations, who dream of light    but descend into the…

  • Braving the Days: The Hermit by Jordannah Elizabeth

    Well, Marlana, our editor in chief, sent over some topics to consider writing about last week. It is not that I don’t have a well of thoughts to share at the moment, but I decided to take some time and review Marlana’s thoughts and input before I went off on my own tangent. The thing…

  • On Being Little by Michelle M. Campbell

    We matter because we are matter, and if we get purposefully madder and madder and madder we can’t be little by being belittled.

  • Celebrating Marbles: Raison D’etre by Julie Corredato

    You’re probably familiar with the vintage idiom, “losing one’s marbles,” and may have used it on occasion in a playful manner, either to mock oneself, or to chide your friends, family, and colleagues during moments of  forgetfulness, anxiety, or despair. My grandmother, Banny, taught us how to play marbles back in the 1970s, and I…

José Guadalupe Posada