Issue 24

Winter 2020

We’re so pleased to share our first issue of 2020 with you! Our winter issue offers pieces reminiscent of the season itself. Introspective, and even brooding, these works speak to the difficulties of everyday life.

As always we’re excited to share new voices with you, such as Brian Clifton and Ann de Forest, as well as our first translated piece, written by Henriette Rostrup. You’ll also spot some Pittsburgh favorites, including Joan E. Bauer and Ben Gwin.

We hope you find this new issue engaging and a great beginning to your new year.

Featured Content from Issue 24

Issue 24 | Winter 2020

Brood

By | Fiction

When I recollect the incident, I can feel the bloody body of the bird striking my toes and hear the crunch of its bones under my bike wheels. I couldn’t get off my bike when I hit the animal, because a testy crowd of rush-hour bicyclists charged forward, so I kept cycling, practically hypnotized, still feeling the dead bird on my foot. When I got to the office, I saw the remains of feathers and blood and pus at the tip of my sandal and toes.

Issue 24 | Winter 2020

Distance

By | Nonfiction

The man should have known distance is already in her. / It moves her farther from them all, it has her / collapse on the bathroom floor heaving / obscenities into her faith and not feeling / the least bit guilt for each four-lettered cry.

Issue 24 | Winter 2020

an excerpt from The War Requiem

By | Nonfiction

I am neither poet nor composer, but in writing this book, I have had to become both.

Issue 24 | Winter 2020

Across Broad Street

By | Fiction

My route is a two-block circle. It takes me a little close to the cop station for this time of year, but this is my route. And it’s been mine since before the police moved to this side of Broad Street and away from all the crime. Fuck them anyway, I’m not even homeless. I just can’t stand to sleep at my house anymore.