NonFiction - Year III - Number 19 - December 2018

I, THE JUNGLEby Derek Nast   Generations and genres later writing style and word usage form differently yet the core of a literary amateur always strives to tell his tale. I, no native to the mile-high...

THE SNOW QUEEN CONTEST(A narrative non-fictional story)by Joseph E. Fleckenstein The ski club’s first meeting of the year is always exciting, festive. Friends and acquaintances from past trips would be there. There would be the...

    IN THE WAITING ROOMby Pete Warzel   There are two manners of conversation that occur in the waiting room of the Radiology Department at Mayo Clinic, Phoenix. The first is a deep dive into the existential,...

MICHAEL BRANCH AND THE ONLY TIME MY FATHER EVER SMOKED POTby Leslie Bohem In the spring of 1971, I dropped out of UC Berkeley midway through my junior year because a girl who I was...

NOTES GOING UNDERGROUNDby Joram Piatigorsky   Ladies and gentleman, thank you for inviting me – an ordinary man who, like most, thinks himself special but knows he isn’t – to deliver my own eulogy at my...

NOW, THAT'S EXTRAORDINARYby Michele Sprague   Between taking the kids to soccer practice, hosting sleepovers for their friends, working, taking graduate courses…Whew! And that’s only part of my to-do list. No wonder, my mind seems to...

MACHINE SHOP SUNDRESSby Claudia Geagan On an ozone drenched summer day in 1961, Mr. Stevenson gives me his black ’54 T-bird and sends me to the loading dock at Lockheed with a shoebox-sized rush delivery.I’ve...

MY DESERTby Myla Grier Aidou Moses and the Israelites wandered for 40 years in the desert. Every time I have heard this, I have said to myself, “Damn.” Why did they have to do it...

NOVEMBER SURPRISEby Gabrielle Rivard November 7 I took Harry to nursery school on Monday morning. He was happy to leave me and ran into the living room of the old house in Southeast Portland to the...

BRILLIANT CORNERS: An Experiment in Visual Prosodyby Michael Milburn I was naked without my line ends.Robert Lowell, letter to Elizabeth Bishop             A few years ago I found myself adjusting the line lengths in my poems,...