Issue #2: My mother calls the seasons into our home!, Catherine Martin
My mother calls the seasons into our home! my room is flushed in spring. my mother opened my window, drew our garden up the wall and into my bed, my […]
My mother calls the seasons into our home! my room is flushed in spring. my mother opened my window, drew our garden up the wall and into my bed, my […]
— Juliet Degree
April 5th Perfect exposure clear light on my skin but I worry about her and what lies within. Dogs tied to doorways induce fear by supernatural signs tied to my […]
April 16th I think the old man upstairs has forgot to turn off his christmas lights. Its the middle of May and reindeer lights flood my cupboards. I try to […]
— Car Picnics On good days, Zaydee would take me out for a car picnic in his rusty red Cadillac, the wide leather seat molded to his vastness, held him […]
Os Imigrantes (The Immigrants) After the painting “Os Imigrantes,” by Domingos Rebelo A small woman sits on the edge of her trunk, wrapped in island cloth, an attempt to hold […]
— Cutting ’Cots When I ask my relatives about cutting ‘cots, slang for picking and preparing apricots to dry in the sun of California’s Santa Clara Valley, they disagree on […]
Another 4th of July Then I see you in an antique farmhouse, checkered apron at the hip, mixing mojitos from fresh mint. The table set with yellow plates, red wine, […]
— Chá Gorreana The land is lined with tea fields, neat rows now harvested by machine. My great-grandmother picked the plant by hand when she lived here one hundred years […]
Walk to Market The streets are as pebbled as the bottom of the ocean, basalt and calcium stones set as skinny sidewalks. You can tell the tourists from the locals […]