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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.

Pillow

Pillow

by Claire Taylor
yes, my love / I know / a pillow can be forts and mountains / stepping-stones that slide / on hardwood floors and end / in tears.
The Poem of the World

The Poem of the World

by Scudder Parker
reveals itself / like a doe’s hoof tapping ice / till she can drink.
In Her Last Days

In Her Last Days

by Peter J. Dudley
the chemo has burned out / and hospice watches / with tender eyes
Directions Back to Childhood

Directions Back to Childhood

by Judith Waller Carroll
Turn left at the first sign of progress / and follow the old highway / along the Stillwater River.
Saving Sgt. Billings

Saving Sgt. Billings

by Kari Gunter-Seymour
We did what we could, / hid the bottles, drove what / was left of him deep / into the yawning hollow
First Nail

First Nail

by Brendan Constantine
I take your portrait down to clean / and notice the scar of another / hanging, painted over.
The Noon Executions

The Noon Executions

by Susan M. Gelles
They heard the shots, and the cheers, and every Saturday night they drank to celebrate the everlasting strength of the regime.
Silent Night

Silent Night

by Mary Liza Hartong
Winter was still holding onto spring like a child who refuses to leave her blanket at home.
Thank You, Girls!

Thank You, Girls!

by Dvora Wolff Rabino
I’m culling needless items from kitchen, baths, and linen closets. I’m curating friendships. Now it’s your turn to go.
Thirteen

Thirteen

by Rebecca Foust
I was thirteen, and there was a boy’s mouth / where my legs met.
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

How to submit to
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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