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Recent Fiction

Paper Nests, by Laurel Miram—Pale yellow pads are best. They contrast well with black Sharpies. No one can miss a bumblebee.

Recent Poetry

If it Wasn’t for You, by Bill Ratner—I’d be a baby without skin, a parrot / without a little soap-shaped food cake, / a truck driver out of a job.

Recent CNF

Don’t Let Them See You, by Anonymous—I will soon be pitching a debut novel, and I want to know how much of an issue my age will be to agents and publishers.

New in the Bistro (our blog)

The Day Your Heart Breaks, by Stephen Parrish—The day my heart broke was the day I decided to become a writer. From the age of ten I’d wanted to be an astronaut. Granted, the choice wasn’t very original, but originality didn’t concern me at ten, the stars and planets did. It was at ten I received my first eyeglasses. Until then I had only been able to see the brightest stars, maybe twenty or so. The first time I went outside at night wearing glasses the view overwhelmed me.

Family

Family

by Cezarija Abartis
Outside the kitchen window, squirrels scattered the seed from the birdfeeder Paula’s dad had set up. The seeds gleamed in the sun like drops of water.
What I Imagine My Parents Did After Dinner

What I Imagine My Parents Did After Dinner

by Brian Fanelli
In our house, nobody ever danced, / even though my father played Elvis / or Johnny Cash from the silver / CD player that rested on the nook
Long Walk Home

Long Walk Home

by Kristene Brown
Hot summer and birds pillage garbage cans, / squabbling for scraps. / With ripped jeans and knotted hair, I follow / the unpaved road to town.
Putting Out the Trash

Putting Out the Trash

by Robert S. King
My socks are small trash bags, / and the street number of my house is zero. / Garbage cans are my walls on winter nights.
Ten Short Poems

Ten Short Poems

by Simon Perchik
These sheep have no choice either / though even in summer / they still want to hear the truth
Traffic Jam Song #1

Traffic Jam Song #1

by David Tucker
No one understands the traffic jams in this city, / how they just spring from the ground like this / and why, when you reach the head of the line, there is / no accident
Dragging Raven Lake

Dragging Raven Lake

by Kevin Couture
The men waited on the shore while Susan, (whose son they searched for), made coffee on the tailgate of a half-ton.
At a Truck Stop on Highway 124

At a Truck Stop on Highway 124

by Andrea Witzke Slot
The odor of stale hotdogs coils / around this truck stop of quiet men / who sit with faces bowed, bath kits / in laps, fair-like tickets in hand.
Breakfast on the Terrace

Breakfast on the Terrace

by Rustin Larson
Prism vase, asters blue as glacier ice, / baskets of strawberries, croissants, / goblets lit with orange juice, / & the cathedral distant, the boat house / flying its flag in an international zone
Fiesta Brava

Fiesta Brava

by Joseph Gross
Then there he is again— / the Suit of Lights, all / epaulets and reluctant pink and gold, / back in the ring.
It all began around a campfire…

Beautiful language

is meant to be heard as well as read, and in fact words were vocalized eons before they were ever committed to clay or parchment. Storytelling began around campfires. We seek prose and poetry that continue the tradition.

Contributor Spotlight:

by Judith Waller Carroll

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Open Contests

Best Writing Contests of 2022, recommended by Reedsy

Lascaux Vol 8

by Stephen Parrish, with the editors of The Lascaux Review