The best of Writer Beware: 2021 in review
We’ve lost Joan Didion
JK just won’t leave it alone
Vampire Chronicles author Anne Rice has died
The most important skill is failure
New imprint, Winning Team Publishing, launched by Trump acolytes
This Isn’t Silverlake Anymore

This Isn’t Silverlake Anymore

by Neil McCarthy
I hear the slightly scratched voice of Joan Baez coming from / the record player singing about the junipers in the pale moonlight, / applause erupting like hailstones on a corrugated iron roof.
Hearsay

Hearsay

by Carla Ferreira
They say in Avignon people dance on the bridge / that was either unfinished or fell apart— / no one remembers those folk stories anymore.
Last Time at the Arch Street Tavern

Last Time at the Arch Street Tavern

by Gail C. DiMaggio
Another Monday in another February and the streets outside / are shiny with sleet, speckled with litter. Everything / diminishes—sumac and elm, Dad’s old Buick. Lust.
The Reincarnation of the Seagull

The Reincarnation of the Seagull

by Lisa Pellegrini
Before he was a seagull / he was the bed of the ocean / its stronghold and place of / penance, a tenderfoot of sorts.
Watching Snow Falling in a Mirror

Watching Snow Falling in a Mirror

by Timothy Walsh
From where I sit, the mirror on the opposite wall / shows the outside world / through the window behind me.
How We Made Gravity About Us

How We Made Gravity About Us

by Matthew J. Robinson
Although we died the moment we met, / we believed we could shun nothingness / by getting married, act as a paradigm / for those just beyond giving up.
Quiescent Infinite

Quiescent Infinite

by Hélène Cardona
On a visit to my ancestors I’m shown / into the palace of hypnotists / through a small entrance and grand rounding staircase, / each step a drawer containing sculptures.
Four by Rilke

Four by Rilke

translated by Len Krisak
Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926) is one of the most influential poets in German literature. Following are new translations of four of Rilke’s poems from his 1907 work Neue Gedichte.
The Dreamer Returns Home

The Dreamer Returns Home

by Robert S. King
This was not my house the day / it grew smaller over my shoulder. / The family my blind rage left would not / know me now, nor would I know more / than who they were.
Piano

Piano

by Joyce Sutphen
Somehow, it keeps itself in tune. / Each key remembers its name / and loves its neighbors— / black and white.
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 Brian Glaser

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Lascaux Vol 8

by Stephen Parrish, with the editors of The Lascaux Review