Creative Nonfiction

Forms In Between Poetry Fiction Creative Nonfiction Visual

Posts in Creative Nonfiction

Robert Wexelblatt

Fein on Cinderella

I wondered if my former wife, who keeps her motives close to her vest, meant something by choosing this particular book. There are themes that might have appealed to her: the absent, sainted mother, an unambiguous warning about second marriages, the fecklessness of fathers.

Read More

Leonard Kress

Blood Thinners

My father is dying, but I’m the only one who seems to know it. He’s in the hospital and they’ve moved him from Intensive Care to Cardiac Step-down to a regular ward. His roommate is recovering from gall bladder surgery and his whole extended family surrounds him with warmth and cheer. My father doesn’t speak more than grunts. He can’t move himself other than to paw ferociously at the tubes running into his chest and the IVs in his wrist, the feeding tube threaded through his nostril. His catheter and the stoma for his colostomy bag. My brother thinks he’s on ...

Read More

Leonard Kress

Ascent to the Underworld

In Centralia, in the Poconos of Northeastern Pennsylvania, there’s no need to descend into the underworld, the realm of the dead, the realm of prophecy and hidden insight. Here, on what used to be a street lined with white aluminum-sided homes, edged lawns and wading pools, well-tuned and tended pickups—the underworld seeps up out of the ground, rising swirling and sulfurous from barely visible slits and fissures in the earth. The topsy-turvy displacement is almost complete. Charred roots tendril out from the ash and slag and gravel mounds that haven’t yet spilled into the hot depressions. The mammoth anthracite coal ...

Read More

Leonard Kress

Dandelions

Lion’s Teeth, I say, but she doesn’t even blink. I don’t know what they’re called in German, whether or not they even proliferate along the Baltic Coast where she grew up. Dandy Lines, Lion’s Teeth, the signifier becomes increasingly slurred...

Read More

Mark Lewandowski

The Polish Lesson

One scorching July day I clipped some newly laundered koszulki onto the line. Arek’s apartament was on the bottom floor of the ubiquitous Soviet-style building: grey, mundane, with bits crumbling off here and there. I sat on my pupa with Gramatyka Polska w Dialogach and tried my best to pretend that I could ever learn this goddamn język.

Read More

Matt Sailor

Cut the Crap

Granted, the punk rockers of the late 1970s and early 1980s have become our heroes and our saints. But would it soften our admiration to know, for instance, that Joe Strummer was born the son of a diplomat, that he went to a posh boarding school in Surrey, that he went to art school to study drawing, that he most certainly never fought the law, much less lost to its omnipotent hand (and additionally, that that song in particular was originally recorded by that notorious voice of the downtrodden, Buddy Holly), that he was not intimately acquainted with running down a railroad track with police on his back?

Read More

David Wanczyk

Shine on Tu Loco Diamente

The only copy of the album they had in stock was gold-plated, the collector's edition. It was 32 dollars. I was 16 and mostly cashless. Those protracted riffs and synthesizer solos were about to be my one and only asset. I held that copy of Wish You Were Here in my hands for ten minutes, wondering what I should do.

Read More

Sara Gerot

Bodies Turn Cold

Tom washed dishes where I worked while he was on work-release from the Ottumwa Residential Facility after serving 7 out of a 10 year sentence for manslaughter. Allegedly involuntary. That’s mean. It was completely involuntary, but that is beside the point.

Read More

Page 1 of 212

From the Archives