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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.

Crystal Pigs

Crystal Pigs

by Allison Brice
I took my breakup quietly, like a pitiful February rain with no lightning.
My Stepmother, Myself

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.
Changing Hearts

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
Playground Doctrine

Playground Doctrine

by Myna Chang
In the grit of a 1975 farm town, 9-year-old girls weigh about 60 pounds, even wicked little girls with bad women for mommas.
Ecru

Ecru

by Oak Morse
We were all one beautiful blend / of mama’s love. My brother, / the color of ecru, the other one / sepia, and me, ebony.
Dear Madeleine

Dear Madeleine

by Stephanie Vanderslice
I can tell you this now. Both times I was pregnant, I worried. I doubted my ability to raise a girl.
The Company of Shallow Holes

The Company of Shallow Holes

by Dino Parenti
One unremarkable March day, a man began puncturing random holes in his withered pasture with a post-hole digger.
Love for Sale

Love for Sale

by Benjamin Aleshire
I travel around the world and strangers pay me to write poems for them on a typewriter in the street—that’s how I’ve made my living for the last eight years.
There, I Said It

There, I Said It

by Tori Malcangio
In the dark, from my twin bed, I listen to Romy and her latest visitor in the sheets.
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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or enter
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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