by Luci Shaw Between generous fields of ripe cranberries and the gleam of corn stubble we drive toward the base of Sumas Mountain, a...

by Jeff Gundy Years ago I decided not to fight every battle, not to dive into black holes or drive through floodwaters, not to pin my...

by Peter Grandbois In the end, there is mostly exhaustion, And wine like blood in this webbing dusk, The scavenger wind playing its...

by Jenna K. Funkhouser An east wind, she might have thought as she splayed the wooden beams and divided their garments Brushed aside the...

by Bethany Getz When my twin brother Nathan and I were eight, he asked my parents if he could play recreational soccer. After the first...

By Mark Watney O Lord      our Shaper1 your name is whirled through all the world Your greatness heaves2     beyond heaven It catches in...

by Russell Rowland To the diffident little boy who is my soul: white birches hold out their limbs to you, black flies can hardly...

by James Owens The day comes, perhaps in your fiftieth year, when you know the rest of it is a letting go. Parents will die and soon....

by Jody Collins Securely tabled, the body awaits a scalpel ready to move in. Sure-handed surgeon, knowing aorta versus vein, cavity...

by Ken Meisel Because the winterberry’s knuckles have glowing red berries on them, & also small corsages of green leaves pinned like...

by Rebekah Denison Hewitt Genesis 21:19 Then God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water. So she went and filled the skin with water...

by Luci Shaw I sit by the window to read and the sun lays his bright shawl across my shoulders. I need this warmth as the nights...

By Yvonne Nguyen i. Wild grass grows golden, tall enough that I cannot find my own feet in front of me. Sometimes I lay down, invisible...

by Peter Grandbois Here is the sunrise withering all we desire with unearned grace Here is our first mistake throbbing with intimations...

by Jeff Gundy Only a few of us ever need to whistle Vivaldi to reassure the nervous suburbanites. Some of us answer “tired old prof” when...

by Francis Fernandes The accordion and guitar wheeze and strum into contortions of love, a double helical staircase, or the unseen...

by Nick Conrad Crops of plenty gone in an instant, the combine’s quick harvest leaving enough still for days of grazing, snout close to...

by Bethany Bowman I no longer listen to Christian radio; its choruses pop and sap, and bellowing, caviling voices of Southern evangelical...

—Cudahy Woods, 2020 by Jacob Riyeff Sleet and stiff breeze cold about the ears, the children tramp along, rejoice in chilled mud...

by Peter Grandbois What I am trying to say is that long ago I walked into a field. What I mean is that long ago I had a choice. Or...