by Mark Wagenaar

—divination by auras It’s Johnny Cash on the little boombox I carry as we climb the grain silo ladders to get a bird’s eye view of the town, of our dozen streets, then the father hen will call his chickens … Continue reading

Grave of a Missing Woman

by Kristel Rietesel-Low

Woods erupting With turkey tail fungi And Touch-Me-Not, You know this: The stream overflows And goes back again. Going back again, Purple Judas trees open In clouds, the heavy scent of Bloodroot and unblinking Stare of Doll’s Eye Following gradually. … Continue reading


by Raye Hendrix

Wouldn’t give you the name of every animal I’ve eaten even if I wanted to (unless you asked me nicely). Unsurprising pig, fish bovine, fowl–consumed their bodies all with no remorse. But if I told you I’d chewed up alligator, … Continue reading

Last Thoughts on Earth

by Hillery Stone

Doon scoops sugar over the pumpkin pulp pulled ridgy from the tinplate can like the tunnel that runs under the river where he likes to shout his name. Arlo breaks an egg over that and marvels at the cracked peel, … Continue reading


by Sharon Hashimoto

My grandmother lifts the corners of her mouth—a smile with no teeth; open palms coaxing me to her side. It’s hot, the thick air sticky on skin. I stay at my mother’s side, fingers busy pleating the hem of her … Continue reading

A Slip Jig and Reel in Cut-Time

by Cate McGowan

Daddy dogs with the coal boys, clocks the loose-planked floor with his boot. Resin dust rises, gambols to “Jayman’s Stomp.” The bodhrain beat time for the generations, while ghosts of fiddle and pennywhistle do-si-do in the lamplight. History’s crackled record … Continue reading

Portrait of Sherwood Anderson at Ripshin Farm, Doris Ulmann, 1928

by Lisa Beech Hartz

This? he says trying on a pose. The homeowner. Gentleman farmer. How about this? But he keeps looking at me. His petra eyes. Mmm, I say. And wait. Beyond me his blue hills. Is this the house the book paid … Continue reading

Arena Chapel Stringband Ballad

by Annie Woodford

  The apple Eve were eating — Charlie Poole Charlie Poole, you picker with a busted hand, catching baseballs & breakdowns. Slurring, on purpose, songs grown in mountain coves— distinct as certain species of salamanders— then carried, gap to gap, … Continue reading

Two White Pigeons

by Emma Bolden

Before branch became birch, before sky became flight, before ground became a verb, even before the sky raised its red lanterns, even while their bodies circled still inside each pale-shelled egg, the birds were waiting for wings. They were always … Continue reading

The Farm Wife Goes to Another Reunion

by Shari M. Wagner

I remember when we played wild rounds of Dutch Blitz till milking time. But now no one owns a cow, the young rarely come, and when they do, they leave after lunch. This year we gather at a state park … Continue reading