April 2026
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Hovering Without Wings by Bill Wolak
Willy Conley, an award-winning, published photographer, writer and filmmaker, is the author of Space is deaf like me, Photographic Memories, Plays of Our Own, Visual-Gestural Communication, The World of White Water, Listening Through the Bone, The Deaf Heart, and Vignettes of the Deaf Character and Other Plays. Born profoundly deaf, Conley is a professor emeritus… Continue reading
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i drive home from work—
by Elizabeth D. Jennings the sun sags lower in my windshield than it did last week. i can’t blame her; the weight of it all, it makes a girl tired. i think i’ll nap when i get home, curl like a cat on top of the covers, curtains open so the pink-strained evening can get… Continue reading
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The Lost Boys
by Kelly Murashige I find out a boy’s gone missing from a flyer on a corkboard. Had he disappeared a year or two ago, I would have found out from the news. For a while, I immersed myself in the goings-on of the world, afraid if I let a war, a bill, a cultural event… Continue reading
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airport at the end of the year
by Marcy Rae Henry we drive softly, before light begins, rain, fog—time everywhere but hard to see. we’re quieter than when you arrived, already redefining our space.after i miss the exit, we make a loopadding ten minutes to the journey.people say i love you for little wisps and twingesbut i don’t tell you about my… Continue reading
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Origin
by Phyllis Carol Agins She is on the way to the Sahara. Of ancient rivers and expanding dunes. Of oasis and caravans and myth. In the early mountains she witnesses a water source. Small bubbles force liquid from below the surface to push slowly toward the sheep that need water, the laundry that should be… Continue reading
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Birdwatching
by Katherine Garrison These birds are always raising the stakes.When I go out, I want to see a shrike,but instead, I am surprised by a hawfinchwhich are rare to see here, as in red listed,and I think that’s probably a good reasonto not raze through the forest in front of melike swifts razor through clouds… Continue reading
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Afterimage
by Reece Jordan And so it repeats itself to him. Early summer: the beginning of July. They are at Julia’s place, sitting on a crescent of stone in the garden. The sun is out and the sky is that blend of blues, both soft and intense. Next to Ezra is a steaming mug of coffee… Continue reading
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Spaghetti Face
by KC Courtland That year, I drove a ‘96 Chevy Venture, a beat-up old minivan, and hauled bodies. It wasn’t as dramatic as it sounded, except it was. I had three babies and one on the way. Even with the van shouldering part of the load, I was weighed down. I’d buckle one kid then… Continue reading
January House Literary Journal 