Ex-Tempora — Toti O’Brien

Let’s start under the tree. My braids pinned around my skull—an intimate hairdo I only sport in domestic settings. No make-up besides lipstick. I am holding my morning cup of coffee. My son… Continue reading →

Free Hands — Heather Durham

I tasted blood. Must have been picking at my lips again. Scraping that bump in the middle of my top lip as if to smooth a seam, or pulling away any chapped strips.… Continue reading →

Old Hippies with Small Bladders — Michael Schulz

My birthday and my wife’s birthday are six days apart. So, every year my parents make the three and a half hour trip to our house to celebrate and spend time with their… Continue reading →

Because we cannot know — LeeAnn Pickrell

Because we cannot know, we keep walking, keep getting up each morning, drinking coffee. Because we cannot know, I’m drinking coffee that morning in Thailand, not on the beach but just off, because… Continue reading →

The Last Supper — Shaelyn Smith

 [apertif] FATE A virtual tour of the Elizabeth A. Sackler Center for Feminist Art housed on the fourth floor of the Brooklyn Museum quickly brings us to its permanent installation: Judy Chicago’s The… Continue reading →

Teaching Transcendentalism in Jersey City — Don Delo

Everyone should have a perch, a place where he can talk to himself without seeming deranged. My perch is on the eastern slope of Peter’s Valley in northern New Jersey on a cliff… Continue reading →

Watchers — Thomas Bauerschmidt Sweeney

My childhood Eden was my grandparents’ lake house. Nestled into the heart of Bemus Bay on Chautauqua Lake, the big house and the little house as we called them, and a yard big… Continue reading →

Homing In — Hilary Schaper

Though Smith Family Tidbits sat on the closet shelf for years, that day—for whatever reason—it caught my eye. Its crumpled and folded pages, some ripped from the three-ring binder and pressed together at… Continue reading →