Third Eye of the Inner Light

by Matt Bialer | May 21, 2018 | Poetry

She leaps up / Ready to answer / Ready to answer / In her session / We see many

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Recasting the Sonnet: Review of Anna Maria Hong’s Age of Glass

by Anita Olivia Koester | May 18, 2018 | Book Reviews

The sonnet is inexhaustible. Magnetic, mesmerizing, bewitching, nearly every poet is drawn to the form at some point in their career, whether they long to write the perfect sonnet, the Shakespearean, Petrarchan or Spenserian, or they desire to break the form, queer it, manipulate it, celebrate its mutability; they want to discover what magic can happen within those fourteen lines.

THE EFFECTS OF ALBRECHT DÜRER’S ETCHING ‘JEROME IN THE WILDERNESS’ ON ACUTE RESIDENTIAL, BEHAVIORAL HEALTH EMPLOYMENT

by Ray Marsocci | May 18, 2018 | Essays

I found an F. I was at my job, with this kid, a boy, when I stepped on it: a cube, bevel-edged small; a bead: F. Like a lion thing, a thorn. Ouch, I coulda said, woulda, but this boy was watching, and I was wearing my sneaker shoes, their like-Faith cushiony soles. And the boy, no saint, like martyring Jerome’s Lion, he stopped walking when I did. He watched me lift my left foot. The cube thorned into my sneaker’s cushiony sole, like Faith. The boy’s mom is dying, so I Lioned for him: Ha.

To Understand the Stone

by Jacqueline Winter Thomas | May 17, 2018 | Poetry

pull from the light three times daily / take in water all at once, then nothing all at once / despise the hands of children / upon the lids of the dead, weigh heavy

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Green Mountains Review, based at Northern Vermont University, is an annual, award-winning literary magazine publishing poetry, fiction, creative nonfiction, literary essays, interviews, and book reviews by both well-known writers and promising newcomers.

More About GMR

Wanting

by Maya Lang | May 16, 2018 | Fiction

He had been fingering his sax mutely from behind the door. “No pretending you forgot something in the living room. No ‘Oh, I’m just coming out to get a glass of water.’” Lilly had gone through these provisions like a lawyer walking through a contract, even asking him to place hand over heart and swear. “But what’s all this?” he’d said, hurt. “Don’t you trust me?” “Not one bit,” she’d retorted. “I know you, Gaurav.”

Boob

by Sari Fordham | May 11, 2018 | Essays

I had never heard her utter the word “boob” before, let alone “boobies.” We were a missionary family, stopping to see relatives in Finland before moving permanently (terrifyingly) to the United States. I had known things would change when we left Kenya, but I hadn’t expected this. Boobies? Really, mom?

Five Poems

by William Trowbridge | May 8, 2018 | Poetry

Oldguy, invited to a white-tie banquet / honoring him for service to mankind, / mistakes his rented duds for opera attire.

Blackberries Pantoum

by L.A. Weeks | May 2, 2018 | Poetry

Silent, a few yards apart, we picked blackberries / in the wild place Dad didn’t know about. / He knew this much: Men could do us harm. / Some pervert might follow our broken twigs

Two Poems

by Benjamin S. Grossberg | Apr 30, 2018 | Poetry

I marry a column of air. / I marry my own / freedom, and at the altar / it and I merely brush / knuckles. I marry time

This Story Is a Gun

by Alexis David | Apr 25, 2018 | Fiction

Back then, you would have mistaken me for a happy person. Bright, cheerful. The kind of young woman you wanted your lost-in-his-dreams-of-moneyed-youth son to marry.

You would have thought that I was healthy. That I was pretty. That I was kind.