From Guest Contributors

Our guest contributors are kindred spirits who also have the writing bug. Some are dear friends and some are writers we admire but don’t know personally. Their bios are included at the end of their individual articles.

-Fine tune feeling-

I go out into the morning, I try not to tune the feeling too much. If I can make one line that is true, it is enough. Just before I had spent hours trying to be important and what a waste it was. My work looking up in state of permission asking, “Is it good enough…

Welcome to hellstrip

The parcel of land goes by many names. Hellstrip, planting strip, outlawn, greenway, verge. It is that space between the sidewalk and the street, a sort of no man’s land that might be filled with sod, a tree, or dirt piles and dandelions. The verge in front of our home was largely barren when we…

Love in the time of coronavirus

  Wednesday morning.  4:00 a.m. or so.  Another worry-filled day approaching. As I continue to rest in my warm, comfortable bed I begin my ritual of praying for my kids, grandkids. When I get to my Parkinson’s list I get hung up thinking about Tom and his wife Jeanie*. I finally get up, let the…

The second bedroom downstairs

the second bedroom downstairs   you can have the second bedroom downstairs move in your boxes and don’t mind how the crows will scream at the glory of another sunrise every damn day just – put away your books and focus on the light come dappled through the trees and above you my soft footsteps,…

Home

The spring is oncoming, and that just remind me all about my old home Vietnam. During the middle of January, we will celebrate Vietnamese traditional holidays. You might not know the name of it so Vietnamese we called: “TET holidays,” which means new year for us. It’s been more than 2 years. I don’t remember…

Trepidatious Welcome (aka Baring Gifts)

  History prepares me To welcome the Monster at my gate   To treat him kindly To not look away No matter how gruesome He appears to me   How rudely he barges in Uninvited and                yet Not totally unexpected Though I shunned him    overwhelmingly   After…

Things You Do Not Know

  MUSIC AND LYRICS  Tara Ward PRODUCTION  Tara Ward | voice Nathanael Washam | voice Mark Mohrlang | guitars Mauricio Carrillo | engineering and mixing LOCATION Nickerson Street Studios  ART Skye Harvey | Self Portrait in Metamorphosis SPECIAL THANKS Lacey Brown LYRICS I was right to wile away the hours in the summertime I do…

Strands of rebellion

They sit cross-legged in the grass. The sun reflects on the dew in the community garden, highlighting Durga’s contagious smile. She sits in a bright green kameez with a dupatta draped around her head, binding her midnight silk hair. Her husband, Phauda, sits beside her, twirling blades of grass. Durga’s laugh lines deepen as she…

Home is where the heart is

Dripping sand, cement, worn-out painted walls; Cats eat rats, rats eating cockroaches and cockroaches eat everything. Her grandma’s unique cooking, the screeching cry of her brother yelling for his favorite toy. Smoke from the inebriating charcoal, her mom shouting for her to clean up after herself. That is what the 10-year-old Sharon imagines when she…

The golden days

“Home”… Oh, what a sweet word it is! This one word brings all the emotions, memories and love. After all, home is not just a building made of bricks and cement, but it is where everyone lives together in harmony with each other. It is a place to share, care and love. Here people make…

Home sweet home

A small, square slab decorated with beautiful flowers around it, always grabbed my attention in my early years. It was hung above the entrance door of my home. I always admired the beautiful colors and often asked my grandmother what’s written on it. She used to tell me that it was written “Home Sweet Home”.…

Glory, glory, glory, glorious!

It’s that time of the year—the holidays are upon us. Sometimes the reality of this season is the hustle and bustle of shuffling in and out of department stores and forcing smiles for pictures, when all we are really  looking for is the glorious. As the great Frank Loyd Wright said “Sometimes less is more.”…

Empathetic movement

  Move for me So I can remember what it feels like To be lighter than air and so___  Very sure of limb Move for me In ways my body remembers as if It were today When you hold gravity to task I am fearless once more  &  Free  Resist! These universal laws As ever long…

Life is long

I feel guilty a lot. It’s my go-to. Guilty if I take too much time for myself. Guilty when I don’t feel like picking up my kids for the zillionth time. Guilty when I’m tired. Guilty that I’m not doing more, more, more. Guilt can be good. It can mean regret and we learn. An…

Morning glories

A percolating coffee pot sounds a lot like a person dying of lung cancer trying to breathe. I made this analogy at age 8, sitting in my aunt Sally’s apartment in Springfield, Missouri, surrounded by depressed relatives. “What’s that bubbling sound? It sounds like Granny Anne.” I was just being honest. She died that night…