Young plant: sprout in grace shedding hull, fishing green headbud up toward the warmth until the world–bug-bitten, shale-sloped, veined and ruled with thickets comes into view but don’t despair. Tear out those leaves and hold them flat to the sky; sunburn your veins good and fill them with new blood until you burst until you warm your roots underneath the shifting maze of what would like to rule you.
top of page
Recent Posts
See AllA huge thank you to all the finalists and to all our readers this year. The new work that’s produced for each contest and the audience...
10
We have enjoyed all twelve finalists. But we only have one Grand Prize. Help us decide which piece wins this year’s Lit Blitz by emailing...
10
The day before my mother died, I’d planned to call her, ask how she was doing, catch up in awkward, stilted conversation. But the day...
40
bottom of page
Comments