by Katrina Knebel
In the park across the street, there is a lake bursting like a dilated pupil within a square iris.
Issue: Fall 2015: Enough Too Much Not Enough
by Sophia Bamert
The soon-to-be setting sun reflects in the windows of an apartment building, casting a harsh glare. I put on my sunglasses, even though I can’t find the sun itself. The Manhattan cityscape distorts the sky that it touches.
by Keene Short
My hometown, Flagstaff, is a galaxy of empires built upon one another. It is a logging college town built on former Mexican territory, formerly New Spain, formerly land inhabited by Native American communities, on the slope of a mountain in a giant ponderosa pine forest on the edge of the Colorado Plateau…
by Hillary Mullan
Here I was flopped on my bed, trapped inside. I was on my sixth day of host mother abandonment and was so over politeness.
by Karl Lettner
Long before my ancestors or I made the region our home, the hardwood forests of indigenous trees claimed it their own.
