How did I used to write poetry? I thought I would go on forever. If the well only bubbled up with dead tropes and gray-faced images, at least they were comfortable. Better than nothing at all. Â But now I find myself rushing to lit theory class on a November Thursday. The smell of dead […]
I pause and rewind the Tiktokker, his hands dicing an onion paper thin. There is not one hiding among the murasaki sweet potatoes I am saving in the corner of the chipped pantry shelf, shallots substitute. They hit the skillet with a sizzle, the pale purple ghosts around the pan on a slip n’ slide
Sometimes I wish I was Lilac flowers bundled together with twine White fluffy cardigan in a field of daisies Reading Jane Austen with the gold lined porcelain tea set beside me  Or rather maybe sipping Earl Grey tea Studying Thoreau in a dimly lit coffee shop The smell of Vermont swirling around
By Emma Gail Compton I made the table I eat dinner at. The wood was cheap but sturdy. The stain I chose is a dark oaky red and makes the small round table seem more expensive than it was. One could find something similar at any store, but this table, my table, I made. I […]
By Gabrielle Crone       Only a hillbilly would bring their injured dog to the vet using twine as a leash. At least that’s what our vet, Westley, announced when he saw my grandpa, Charles Bailey, in the lobby of the clinic twine leash in hand. Gizmo had injured his paw, most [&helli
By Julia Voyt Pages and pages of 12 size Times New Roman are bled across the paper feverishly, introductions and statistics under methods and conclusions. Not eating food and my bicep is smaller this week I talk faster to my family and I write, write, write. The earth outside smells different and sw