Tributaries
Tributaries: “We are the Ocean”
By Urvashi Bahuguna A whale fall is the carcass of a whale that has fallen to the ocean floor, & that sometimes creates complex, localized ecosystems supporting deep sea life. We have learned to hold the drift in our jaws, seaweed breathing from a blowhole. We are the ocean trying one hand at perpetuity.
Tributaries: “Practical Augury”
By Carrie Laben It’s one of the most laid-back forms of fortune telling. No special potions or smokes required, no messy entrails, no cards to shuffle and no tea cups to rinse. Just tip your head back and look
Tributaries: “The Snapping Turtle”
By Karen J. Weyant The road near Benson Pond is always littered with roadkill. Twisted deer legs lie tangled in weeds, dead raccoons are knotted in cattails, and mounds of porcupine quills puncture the air. There’s matted fur and
Announcing Tributaries: The New Nature
A year ago we launched Tributaries, a weekly web series that “showcases the brief and the inspiring, that which sustains us and takes us through unexpected courses.” We’re proud of the work that has found its way onto our front
Tributaries: “Lake Michigan Boys”
By Allen Weber Winter never leaves suddenly. Creeping temperatures coax groans from the thickest ice, and sometimes a cocksure boy wanders too far from shore— makes an island of himself. Incensed by indecision, The rest wish it were us
Tributaries: “Willow Grove, Acrostic”
By Abigail Wang Walls streaked in tape was how we left it on the last day. A father’s pride is Immutable, but at six, I swore I would never do the same when I had children, Letting them plaster
Tributaries: “Beaver as Fairy Drag Mother”
By Matty Layne Glasgow The trees are queer magic, just look at them. Branches arch to sky like soft-wristed arms, hands twirl overhead doing the leafshutter in the evening breeze. I watch you girdle a willow on the river’s
Tributaries: “Diagnostics”
By Lora Rivera Your eyes go bright, green as creosote. “This here’s a good placement. Lots of surface area. Solid rock.” Tap-tap. “Now this…” Tock-tock. “Hollow,” I mutter. Nuts, cams, anchors: Sport climbing’s one thing. This’ll be my first
Tributaries: “A Cottage”
By nv baker Her house is what could be called a cottage, but that’s not a regional term, not a colloquialism. Her home is an old adobe. Old, corrugated roof casting blindness in the sun, roof tin peeling backwards
Tributaries: “Single”
By Lucian Mattison The cabin window overlooks a thicket of scrub brush, pine. Sprawled on the mattress, I’ve found something I had forgotten went missing, but this time it fails to surprise me: paper wasp embalmed in the eaves,
