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Leanna Moxley spends most of her time wandering in and out of fictional dimensions, often guiding others through these portals in her work as a Powell’s bookseller, and sometimes as a college writing teacher.Continue Reading

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1.   Down Below:  Silver tube speeding, Blurs of blues and whites, Bricks and dark.  Open cavernous lairs, For seasoned daily travelers, Absorbed in ignoring liminal surroundings, Minds already docked to destinations, Hooking in place that final link.  With a scream to a stop, And a chime to begin, Towing them away, Through final moments, Of humming headphones, And worn-out SudokuContinue Reading

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It starts with the flick of a switch. The belt twitches on. An incessant, low hum fills the silence. But there never was silence, really. Just the noise of before, impossibly and beautifully peaceful in contrast to this reawakened monotony, this auditory hell. A bizarre rage stirs in the whirContinue Reading

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‘In the elder days of Art,Builders wrought with greatest careEach minute and unseen part;For the Gods see everywhere.’(Longfellow) Every morning, when the withered gray fingers of dawn cast a pale light in her room, Borea blew out of bed to see what time it was. Confusion was a masterpiece ofContinue Reading

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5.  I remember the cold stones against my toes. I remember the roughness of the wooden door frame beneath my fingers. I remember the jagged indentation in the floor, the one that perfectly fit the pad of my thumb, that became smooth and soft with years of worrying. I rememberContinue Reading

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I shatter with that night hiding inside my horns, when  you tried to teach me the mausoleum dance, how to  behold myself on glassy marble graves, but I wasn’t  listening. I draped rugs across my back and lied  about being heavy. I bite with that morning hiding in  my gums,Continue Reading

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During the 1970s, numerous pieces were accepted for publication. Then family, teaching, two college presidencies and for 12 years president of an Inland Northwest community foundation. After a four decade hiatus, he is now attempting to outpace a tortoise. Within the past two and half years, his works have appearedContinue Reading

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Deconstructing patterns and stories is hard as hell… the hell we create by needing to be right.  The way we fight to defend that which we believe… believe to be real and true about the world.  We cling desperately to a story… any story that makes us feel less alone.  We reach forContinue Reading

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Overnight, a studio apartment made entirely of glass appeared in the middle of the waterfront park. Every surface, every wall, every piece of furniture within (save a single pillar of stone in the dead center of the room) was made of the same sturdy, translucent glass. From the outside thereContinue Reading

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I can’t get enough interstate I-80, between Melissa and her recent past. I never anticipated that I’d see so many dead jack-rabbits. Tommy isn’t far behind. I’m convinced of that. I know Tommy very well. I’m his brother from another father and his best friend. My older brother Tommy isContinue Reading