by Kashawn Taylor no longer can i surviveon bitter caffeine and self-hatred toppedwith old-fashioned determination sprinkleskeenly aware that my eyes lie, that whati see is / not mewhat I see is not me but i can’t helpthat sometimes eating’s a chore& i’d rather do anythingother than masticate and swallowanything else…
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…