by Anne Panning | Feb 25, 2021
Auto Refill: I hit “Buy It Now” over and over on Amazon. Big blue tubs of lightly salted cashews hit the front porch softly, pouched in plastic. I do it so often they intuit when I need more. They send more. I place them on my husband’s tongue like exquisite...
by Brett Ann Stanciu | Jan 11, 2021
On a cold-throttled January afternoon, shortly after the holidays, library trustee Susan Greene walked in on an intruder in the Woodbury Library. Minutes before, a neighbor had messaged Susan after spying a local man named John Baker[1] hurrying around the back of the...
by Judith Harris | Oct 27, 2020
Paul Klee once said, “He has found his style, when he cannot do otherwise.” There are poets whose language takes on this kind of inevitability, something Rilke called the “unconcealedness of being,” which shimmers on, star-like and unbidden, shouldering the pain of...
by Susan Z. Ritz | Sep 3, 2020
From my window, I look out at Montpelier’s empty streets, trying to tune out the COVID-19 news updates that ping and bing on my phone, asking myself why this all feels so eerily familiar. I know this jumble of emotions. Fear, helplessness, despair, and also the sense...
by Alexandria Peary | Aug 31, 2020
A visit to the hair salon every seven or eight weeks for me is the emotional equivalent of attending a high school reunion, the kind where two popular girls, naturally both cheerleaders, rush you in the restroom line, singsong, “Are you married yet? We didn’t think...
by Mimi Dixon | Jul 19, 2020
The Dead are not under the earth They are in the rustling trees, they are in the groaning woods They are in the crying grass, they are in the moaning rocks...
