Meet the Contributors

Editor-in-Chief Sarah Levesque was not planning on creating a new magazine, but when God puts something on your heart, you do it. And she’s super excited about it too! Sarah has been a reader since before she can remember, a writer since age 6, an editor since age 12, and a magazine-worker since age 20. […]

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The Chainsaw Days of September

These are the chainsaw days, humid and hot
Wind-blasted shingles and wind-blasted trees
And clearing windfall in the gasping heat:
Litter to the burn-piles, firewood to the stacks…

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Weathering Plague-Time and Hurricanes

…But this year all your friends fit into cubes
On the computer screen at your kitchen table
And you hope your stupid brother won’t dance
Across the room in his Captain Marvel underwear…

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In Media Res All Is Chaos

Maybe I disappoint, but now I prefer
That safe distance Yevtushenko condemned
Because in media res all is chaos
The immediacy of emotion and pain…

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Staff

Updates – I’m going to try to do one a week after each magazine comes out, and possibly random other times. 8.11.20 Wow okay it’s been a LONG time since I did this…. Oops. Stats: Winter 2020 (Feb) visual: 111* Winter 2020 (Feb) audio: 35 Youtube / 8 Anchor etc Spring 2020 (May) visual: 33* […]

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Two Cones

And now two cones are moving up the coast
Maybe tomorrow they’ll move back down again
While we stack toilet paper and MREs
Perhaps the ice cream truck’s an ice cream float…

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A Statue of Our Favorite War Hero

Let us build a statue of Sergeant Schultz
Standing bravely at the door of Baracke 2
With a bouquet of flowers in one mighty hand
And a slice of apple strudel in the other…

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Your Job is Essential

Some say this is the age of the coronavirus. Perhaps it is, but more than that this is the age of incoherence. No one agrees on what the killer virus is, where it came from, masks or not masks, isolation or congregation, work or no work, treatments, dubious medicines (Macbeth IV:1), numbers of deaths, or the utility of borders (Richard II II:1)

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Summer of the Blue Helmets

Sergeant Schneider barked at us, his young heroes
And made us crawl the beach at Oceanside
And tho’ he made each day’s harsh training1 sting
One evening at Mass we heard sweet children sing…

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