Bridge City earns it nickname. Standing on the precipice and looking south to the Sellwood, I see the empty islands. A strip of sand and...

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. Artist: P/T

My body is one of ice hardened by the sting of the wintertime, one so thick and weary I sometimes feel like it has been repurposed as a...

January 2022: Where does the stamp go again? The Inspiration: "A novel, like a letter, should be loose, cover much ground, run swiftly,...

I squeeze my left fingers With my right, hard, in my lap. The left ones smoosh together like they’re being hugged. Not in comfort. A...

[Author’s Note: For the 4th installment of my who/what/where/when/why series, I want to mix things up a bit. I was inspired to push my...

The pool is cold. I look down from the high dive, Arms shivering, or, Maybe trembling. It’s hard to distinguish between Cold feet and...

Before I start, I won’t pretend to be a good writer. I personally don’t care too much about grammar. For me, writers can do whatever they...

- Emily Menges "And it’s really an amazing journey everybody’s been on. One common thread of course is Tree Street and the relationships...