• Essays

    Mont BlancSweet Little Comforts

    My thought is a mandala, a mantra. A round thing turning over and over in my mind. A focus for my eyes and my breath. It’s as close as I come to prayer.

  • Poetry

    Apple Tree black and whiteEverything I say is a lie

    All of this a lie, because you can’t remember the apple tree,
    so it was never there, and I was never there, and
    and I am just like my father, a liar who remembers things
    that never happened, never were, in those spans of years

  • Essays

    Normal, IL movie theaterOreo

    “There will be people who’ll cross the street to avoid you because you’re black,” my mother would tell me when I was younger, in every conversation or argument about race we ever had.

  • Poetry

    SnowflakesTwo Poems by Patrick Kindig

    a pile of red skin grows on the table,
    like snow or eyelashes unattached
    to a wish.

  • Essays

    Night CyclingNight Cycling

    The island was ours; each kissing gate and the kisses inside of them, each water trough, every animal call, root, rock, dock leaf and bunker. Even the moon.

  • Author Interviews

    Noah CiceroAuthor Q&A: Noah Cicero (Best Behavior)

    “I believe if you read a lot, your mind learns the ability to play different games or see different options in every situation that non-readers might not see.”

  • Poetry

    Diamond matchesDe Terre

    The birds (of paradise) are chittering
    which seems insufficient
    for a poem, because it does not match
    the intensity—or is it pain?—

  • Author Interviews

    Masha HamiltonWhat Changes Everything: 5 Questions with Masha Hamilton

    “Telling one’s own story is as important to a certain kind of survival as food and shelter.”

  • Poetry

    Holy CardU.I.O.G.D.

    This week I learned that every other year the Holy Ghost plants a baby seed in a married mom’s tummy. Nine months later a slit opens up underneath across the bottom and the baby slides out.

  • Fiction

    KaleidoscopeThe Kaleidoscopic Story

    Perhaps the only way kaleidoscopes can forever renew themselves is by not asking you to look into them, but by asking you to look out from them. Why not?