This is a collaboratively written essay by Pittsburgh fifth-graders in response to “Senses of South Arm,” by 5th graders in Tasmania, Australia By Grade 5-1, Pittsburgh Colfax Elementary In the morning the sun stretches its arms to me.
By Bruce Robinson *** Recent work by Bruce Robinson appears in Yo-NewYork!, Pittsburgh Poetry Houses, enclave, and Mobius.
From Issue 13 Nominated for Pushcart Prize, 2016 Can I share this happiness with you? Meat on a spit, a trashcan full of yellow rice, this Chiweenie takes a shit by its stroller. All I want is everything on
By Karen McDermott Standing on moldy straw among palominos cream and white; the rain detains me here. Dripping thatch like the tapping of a schoolmaster’s fingers correcting my impatience returning my attention to the lesson of the day: the
A collaboratively-written meditation on place from Issue 14, Juvenescence By ‘Waratah’ – Grade 5/6 South Arm Primary School, Australia In the dawn, you can hear birds as you’re waking. It’s so quiet you can hear the trees bristling together.
By Sue Repko I turned off Route 30 in Duncan, Nebraska to see the Platte River, but it was practically all dried up. It was the end of August, and it had depressed me. I’d expected water, life. So I
by Jen Karetnick The octopus found a coconut, hollow and halved like a locket, dropped into its world. A chair waiting for its occupant, the shell rocked on the ocean floor, inviting as tea. The octopus lowered its mantle
By Joan Moritz Frost pays attention to everything. It is curious about each bump and crevice of a roof tile, fascinated by the folds of a winter flower, every vein and serration, the edge of a broken petal no
By Alyssa Guelcher, Assistant Editor, The Fourth River Society often takes a rigid, utilitarian approach to urban space, maximizing the efficiency of each square foot so that it contributes to the overall function of the city. This is perhaps
By Diane Payne The two babies, twin sisters, lie next to each other wearing matching pink satin robes and stocking caps. They were alive hours, maybe minutes, maybe not at all. The parents, my neighbors, dressed their daughters for