We lost Larry McMurtry and Beverly Cleary
HarperCollins to acquire HMH Trade
Phantom Tollbooth author Norton Juster has died
Dr. Seuss’s biographer on unpublishing six of his books
Six Dr. Seuss books scrapped due to racism
Hugh Howey’s publishing values

Recent Fiction

Crystal Pigs, by Allison Brice
I took my breakup quietly, like a pitiful February rain with no lightning.
Recent Poetry

Changing Hearts, by David Watts
I heard for the second time / the news of his heart transplant, / details like a post card from a foreign country
Recent CNF

My Stepmother, Myself, by Abi Stephenson
She didn’t have to love me. Biology didn’t force her hand the way it does for mothers.

Lunchtime at the Café Buade, Quebec City
by Barbara P. Greenbaum
There is a woman in the booth next to us. / She looks at me as I remove my new hat.

Elegy for a Living Mother
by Renee Agatep
When she finally dies / she’ll meekly ask God why was it all / clattering highchairs, whiskers on stained sinks

Jenner Stones
by David Watts
At Jenner-by-the-Sea we scurry / over boulders to the place / where the breakers bear down

Abeyance
by Rebecca Foust
I made soup tonight, with cabbage, chard / and thyme picked outside our back door.

Why I Froze My Ass Off in a “Frozen” Costume on a Street Corner Just before the Election
by Melissa Hart
On the Friday before Election Day, I shivered on the side of a busy street in Eugene, Oregon wearing a costume from the Disney film Frozen and holding a giant orange sign that read “Do You Want to Build a Democracy?”

The Figure
by Joseph Fasano
You sit at a window and listen to your father / crossing the dark grasses of the fields

On the Diamond Behind Garfield Elementary, Melvin White Proves There Is But One Boog Powell
by Roy Bentley
When Dave Wheeler fielded the hard one-hopper / to short, he fired the ball to Melvin White

Bliss
by Jill Evans
In the cool morning, bright-hot now from his bath, / my child’s child leans into my lap

How Unbecoming
by Katie Tunning
I’m sorry for saying the heat death of the universe / when you asked what comforted me most

Remains
by Maureen Simons
They came back every year to lay flowers at the spot. Two little girls, hand in hand, walked soundlessly up Nora’s driveway.