by TNSF | Sep 11, 2019 | Photography, Vol. 2, Issue 22
Joy Taken in the northern suburbs of Atlanta, GA, this portrait uses a wide-open aperture to remove the one branch and the subject from the rest of the forest. To me, this photographic isolation represents an experience of growing up in the South as a person of color...
by TNSF | Sep 11, 2019 | Stories, Vol. 2, Issue 22
Our reward for finishing chores are in dinged up plastic cases from the library. The movies star talking dogs, rarely dinosaurs. They have funny white lesbians instead of Jim Carey or Eddie Murphy. We’ll watch the other movies at friends’ houses later....
by TNSF | Aug 28, 2019 | Poems, Vol. 2, Issue 21
Atlanta Writer’s Club Presents… The Natasha Trethewey Prize for Poetry Winner: Elizabeth Bracken Sestina for My Mother When I was four, I would sit in a brown wooden chair in the kitchen and my mother would braid my hair. Then she would turn...
by TNSF | May 8, 2019 | Nonfiction, Vol. 2, Issue 13
It was the year of the pig with no name. When nonno brought home a baby pig from the livestock market in Campobasso in the early Spring, he cautioned me not to name it. In previous years, including just a couple of months prior, I ended up squealing too when my...
by TNSF | Mar 13, 2019 | Best of Volume 2, Poems, Vol. 2, Issue 9, Volume 2 Best Of Pt 2
—a haibun after supper she sends us out to play in the yard & get our ya-yas out, one last hurrah of dirty bare feet & stinky little girl before bathtime, then storytime, then bedtime. Sissy & I had drippy popsicles & we ran to the farthest edge of the...
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