The turtles are dry back when I am near silent. My kayak glides by. They stay in the sun careening their necks staring. Imaging what I
Debra Marquart
On my last afternoon as a failed trophy wife, I sat opposite my husband in a windowless conference room. My life—as wife, as mother—was laid bare.
Every city in America gives graveyard to decaying giants. Abandoned stadiums, hotels, subway stops, factories, and dried waterways: they wait in hiding, empty and quiet, from
You’ll know when it’s time to let go. That’s what I’d always heard, although never from my father. My dad was still holding on to things
Paul arrived on a military hop from Anchorage to Juneau in his fatigues and camo jacket around noon on Tuesday. Because Pops no longer drove and
In Raquel’s classroom, picture books proved a challenge. Students regularly confused narwhals with unicorns and vultures with griffins. Decades had passed since even their parents had
Poetry Corinne Dekkers,“Seacountrymen, dir. Vittorio De Seta, 1955” Christien Gholson, “Rain, the Ceaseless Sea, the Water Works Drowned & Prophesy: how the world was made” and
Not a Fragile Flower, Build Your Own Eden Series Artist Statement Some months into the first year of the lockdown, I noticed that we had
Artist Statement I try to make my art in the spirit of Lorca's Duende. In this pursuit, I've found such masters as Giacometti and Burri. Giacometti
I Crouched among the periwinkles you evade the panting fury of the horses and the howl of dogs in the sun. You are like the blue-green