by Phibby Venable blue ridges, path loose with mud,a halo of fog grayingin a new daythe old womanlaid out her firethe night before,in the rusted woodstove,that still spokeout flames each morning,and sang out cold,as she listened, trembling the newspaper toward warmthe old woman, always in smoke and daydreams, worn outand…
by John Wells It’s a conversation I’ve had with almost every writer I know: does it ever make sense to self-publish work? Despite the miracle of electronic submissions, it’s still a months-long process, submitting and waiting for word on your poem, your story, your essay. For the publishing of a…
by Joan F. Smith In college, I started my “literary career” (I use this term very loosely) by being selected, along with two other students, to be the editorial board of Providence College’s international literary journal, “The Alembic.” The three of us were responsible for choosing the final selections for the…
by Richard Adams Carey I remember my mother being an atheist about the aging process. “I don’t feel any different,” she would protest as the decades marched on. She didn’t deny the aches and pains, which she did feel, and which were different. It was more a mental thing, a…