The Fourth River

Tributaries, The New Nature: “Pigeonblood”

By on April 4, 2018

By Shaun Turner   Bette wrung the white cotton tees out into her big iron wash bucket then pinned them to the line with a set of rusty clothespins as she watched the bloody pigeon land hard at one of

Tributaries, The New Nature: “Bus Stop”

By on March 28, 2018

By Donna Miscolta   It’s eight a.m. and I’m at the bus stop in my mostly white neighborhood in my mostly white city. I’m reading a book by a Latino novelist as I wait for the Rapid Ride that will

Tributaries, The New Nature: “TAGUS”

By on March 21, 2018

By Jack Westmore   the preparation, it makes its way in from the lemon if you head to the hills, it lives up here, among smell of salt and ocean-rind, behind the slow cure of afternoon & i, not knowing

Tributaries, The New Nature: “Freeze and Thaw”

By on March 14, 2018

By Emily Withnall   I met her in early January on a sidewalk in Missoula, Montana. It was only nine but it felt past midnight, the dark and cold thrumming along my skin, the stars dagger points suspended in the

Tributaries, The New Nature: “Another Morning”

By on March 7, 2018

By Soo Young Yun   The kkachi [1] watches the girl, admiring her ebony tresses as dark as his own tail. She peels off her shoes and lays them daintily behind her, much like every time she enters her home.

Tributaries, The New Nature: “From this Sharp Place”

By on February 14, 2018

Selected by Ira Sukrungruang   By Alani Hicks-Bartlett   Despite our vantage point / from this sharp place, / there is such an expansive and gaping silence / to the left, / where the low, smooth valley / boasts the

Tributaries, The New Nature: “Outlanders”

By on January 24, 2018

Selected by Ira Sukrungruang   By Dheepa Maturi   I remember a mangled mallard, a blotch of emerald, a blur of brown on the dirt road, and though I’d been told never to touch a bird because they carry diseases,

Tributaries, The New Nature: “What Remains”

By on January 17, 2018

Selected by Ira Sukrungruang   By Nicole Robinson   Near the edge of Lake Erie a common tern skims the shoreline for small fish. Behind me the marsh is golden brown with only buds of green. Migrating warblers flutter their

Tributaries, The New Nature: “On Monsoons”

By on December 6, 2017

Selected by Ira Sukrungruang   By Oliver de la Paz   1. I said to him, “Look at the rainbow.” 2. We were walking and the road ran parallel to the light. 3. Because it was hot we knew about

Tributaries, The New Nature: “Welcome to the Heat”

By on November 29, 2017

Selected by Ira Sukrungruang   By Adriana  Páramo   I landed in Kuwait in the summer of 1996. As soon as I stepped out of the plane, a violent searing puff of sand hit my face, fogged up my glasses,