childhood
Online Exclusive: “Purple Eyeshadow,” memoir by Rene Denfeld.

Online Exclusive: “Purple Eyeshadow,” memoir by Rene Denfeld.

An online exclusive … “When it was quiet I would stand and look out the windows at the streets I had recently escaped, and I was filled with such a surge of life.” When I was sixteen, I fought my way off the streets by getting a job at McDonald’s. It was the one on 6th...
Share This Poem: "Flask," by Ellen Stone.

Share This Poem: “Flask,” by Ellen Stone.

“Flash of guilt or sorrow though the glass is smooth …” Our “Small Things, Partial Cures” theme offers a second poem by Ellen Stone. You can download a full-size broadside by clicking and dragging the formatted version below — or scroll down to read in plain format. This poem is also on Medium, in slightly different format. Flask...
From Our Pages: "The River My Father Promised, a quest through fifty countries." By Bea Chang.

From Our Pages: “The River My Father Promised, a quest through fifty countries.” By Bea Chang.

  “I came home and I left, again and again, each time reminded of the sadness and disappointment of my own upbringing, the terrible lack of stories.”   For Bea Chang, who contributed the memoir “The River My Father Promised” to our “Maps & Legends” print issue, life is — literally — a journey. At the time she wrote...
From Our Pages: "Dale Flynn's Blood," memoir by D. J. Lee.

From Our Pages: “Dale Flynn’s Blood,” memoir by D. J. Lee.

Trouble next door. “I pushed away and we stood in the soft wet dirt of the shoulder, staring at one another. Suddenly, he lunged forward …”   D. J. Lee’s searing memoir of bullying, aspiration, and teenaged hormones appeared in BROAD STREET’s “Bedeviled” issue in winter/spring 2015. It has been praised for its gritty portrayal of anger...
Share This Poem: "13 Months," by Lea Marshall.

Share This Poem: “13 Months,” by Lea Marshall.

“I bear the awful lightness of her small body, her pale straight nape …”   13 MONTHS She is strapped to me and we chant in rhythm with my steps as we walk. On a windy day we swing our arms out to feel it, and she laughs and calls her sound for wind. Her fine hair...