Spring 2016 Under My Bed Jody Keisner If people always knew when intruders had broken into their homes, no one would ever die this way. I grab a chef’s knife, the knife that slices through raw chicken, bone and flesh, and return to the living room where the moth persists at the lamp. There’s only one way to be sure. I’ll have to check. Nonfiction The Great Depression Joyce Wilson Young Perhaps because of the housing boom and bust of the early 21st century, American society is now more aware of the “near poor” or people who are just getting by. But when I was a teenager, normal-looking actually meant “just like everyone else.” No one knew I was hungry and poor. Nonfiction Novelty Fades Laurette Folk She kept her head down, noting pieces of chrome, the crunch of sandal on pebbles on asphalt, the sound of whirring cars, a dead hawk with its pure white breast ripped apart and wings frayed every which way. Fiction Mrs. Blunt’s Bequest Barbara Stowe Ruth had always said that when she was too enfeebled to live independently, she'd "off" herself, as she put it with characteristic candor. A Right-to-Die advocate for decades, she was now bequeathing possessions. That's what people did when they were going to do themselves in. Ruth would have been proud of me for putting it that way, for not resorting to a more comfortable euphemism. Nonfiction Nakedness Siân Griffiths My body is a private and practical thing—something yielded to the production of children and the scrubbing of a bathtub, but not something I would find either pleasure or pride in offering to the public. And yet, here I am, sitting in front of a computer, offering its naked portrait to the public gaze because, as a writer, my job is to be publicly naked. Nonfiction The Interview Alice Elizabeth Rogoff "Oh yes, there was a famous woman organizer who lived on Evans. If she’s still around, she would be very old now. Older than me,” said Sister Jonnie smiling. This piqued Valerie’s interest. It could be possible to have an interview. Fiction Herrschaft (Territory) Emily Van Duyne Again, a question of language—I use the possessive pronoun and I become ill at ease, a little sick, the way you feel when you’ve eaten too many sweets—my rapist, the way I call my lover, my mother, my son. Nonfiction The Housewife’s Huffing Club Alyssa Quinn Step five. Place mouth over nozzle. Inhale deeply. Enjoy the buzz that follows and repeat as needed. Huff on, bitches. Fiction Darling Daughter Audrey Carroll [T]ell them, dear child, of the female narrative not born of temptation & sin but of the blood of your blood singing out. Poetry Discount Caroline Chavatel I frame you like a museumed artifact, safe from thievery and me. Dear broken bread. Dear broken skull. Dear Thanksgiving. Poetry Vermont, Early Spring Hillary Katz In April snow lingers like a drought. Poetry Elegy for My Child / Current Chelsea Dingman [S]omeone I can't dream has left this body Poetry Bravado Erin Bertram It’s good to be incendiary, lit up, Sparked heel to crown. Poetry Three Poems Marci Calabretta Cancio-Bello Generations are contained in her wrist bones, in whether she can constrain the nature of the bird. Poetry Badlands / The Lakehouse Jennifer Molnar You’re tempted to find God in every abandoned landscape: twist of black road snaking through dry grass, shroud of white hotel cotton, blank heaven that cannot conjure cloud. Poetry The Devotion of St. Teresa of Ávila Rochelle Hurt But real sickness arrived like an invitation slipped under the door Poetry Three Poems Corinne Schneider Today I got my legs waxed. I needed someone to hurt me a little. Poetry, Spring 2016 Artist Feature: Milana Braslavsky Milana Braslavsky I work with domestic settings and distorted figuration, and the characters in my photographs transform themselves using basic materials including purses, pillows and their own Visual Art Artist Feature: Andrea Donnelly Andrea Donnelly This body of work will continue, as a collection of textile texts, to write its own meaning. It seems I will always be learning this language. Visual Art Artist Feature: Jane Hugentober Jane Hugentober Jane Hugentober is an American artist. Born in Indiana, Jane lived in New York City and currently lives and works in Los Angeles, California. Jane Visual Art Artist Feature: Courtney Kessel Courtney Kessel In partial protest, I am putting the mother in the gallery. She is not the idealized mother painted with glowing beams of light smiling down Visual Art Artist Feature: Robert Mertens Robert Mertens Lying at an intersection of pedagogy, technology and post-minimal Fiber Art history, the performance installations I create explore ideas of failure, fidelity, language, transmission, and progress. Visual Art
Under My Bed Jody Keisner If people always knew when intruders had broken into their homes, no one would ever die this way. I grab a chef’s knife, the knife that slices through raw chicken, bone and flesh, and return to the living room where the moth persists at the lamp. There’s only one way to be sure. I’ll have to check. Nonfiction
The Great Depression Joyce Wilson Young Perhaps because of the housing boom and bust of the early 21st century, American society is now more aware of the “near poor” or people who are just getting by. But when I was a teenager, normal-looking actually meant “just like everyone else.” No one knew I was hungry and poor. Nonfiction
Novelty Fades Laurette Folk She kept her head down, noting pieces of chrome, the crunch of sandal on pebbles on asphalt, the sound of whirring cars, a dead hawk with its pure white breast ripped apart and wings frayed every which way. Fiction
Mrs. Blunt’s Bequest Barbara Stowe Ruth had always said that when she was too enfeebled to live independently, she'd "off" herself, as she put it with characteristic candor. A Right-to-Die advocate for decades, she was now bequeathing possessions. That's what people did when they were going to do themselves in. Ruth would have been proud of me for putting it that way, for not resorting to a more comfortable euphemism. Nonfiction
Nakedness Siân Griffiths My body is a private and practical thing—something yielded to the production of children and the scrubbing of a bathtub, but not something I would find either pleasure or pride in offering to the public. And yet, here I am, sitting in front of a computer, offering its naked portrait to the public gaze because, as a writer, my job is to be publicly naked. Nonfiction
The Interview Alice Elizabeth Rogoff "Oh yes, there was a famous woman organizer who lived on Evans. If she’s still around, she would be very old now. Older than me,” said Sister Jonnie smiling. This piqued Valerie’s interest. It could be possible to have an interview. Fiction
Herrschaft (Territory) Emily Van Duyne Again, a question of language—I use the possessive pronoun and I become ill at ease, a little sick, the way you feel when you’ve eaten too many sweets—my rapist, the way I call my lover, my mother, my son. Nonfiction
The Housewife’s Huffing Club Alyssa Quinn Step five. Place mouth over nozzle. Inhale deeply. Enjoy the buzz that follows and repeat as needed. Huff on, bitches. Fiction
Darling Daughter Audrey Carroll [T]ell them, dear child, of the female narrative not born of temptation & sin but of the blood of your blood singing out. Poetry
Discount Caroline Chavatel I frame you like a museumed artifact, safe from thievery and me. Dear broken bread. Dear broken skull. Dear Thanksgiving. Poetry
Three Poems Marci Calabretta Cancio-Bello Generations are contained in her wrist bones, in whether she can constrain the nature of the bird. Poetry
Badlands / The Lakehouse Jennifer Molnar You’re tempted to find God in every abandoned landscape: twist of black road snaking through dry grass, shroud of white hotel cotton, blank heaven that cannot conjure cloud. Poetry
The Devotion of St. Teresa of Ávila Rochelle Hurt But real sickness arrived like an invitation slipped under the door Poetry
Three Poems Corinne Schneider Today I got my legs waxed. I needed someone to hurt me a little. Poetry, Spring 2016
Artist Feature: Milana Braslavsky Milana Braslavsky I work with domestic settings and distorted figuration, and the characters in my photographs transform themselves using basic materials including purses, pillows and their own Visual Art
Artist Feature: Andrea Donnelly Andrea Donnelly This body of work will continue, as a collection of textile texts, to write its own meaning. It seems I will always be learning this language. Visual Art
Artist Feature: Jane Hugentober Jane Hugentober Jane Hugentober is an American artist. Born in Indiana, Jane lived in New York City and currently lives and works in Los Angeles, California. Jane Visual Art
Artist Feature: Courtney Kessel Courtney Kessel In partial protest, I am putting the mother in the gallery. She is not the idealized mother painted with glowing beams of light smiling down Visual Art
Artist Feature: Robert Mertens Robert Mertens Lying at an intersection of pedagogy, technology and post-minimal Fiber Art history, the performance installations I create explore ideas of failure, fidelity, language, transmission, and progress. Visual Art
