Three Poems by Dale Cottingham

Girding Up                                                 The coat still fit. The arms, the chest, all of it in brown corduroy. And his wool stocking hat. Also out of vogue, that he’d thought he lost, he now pulls over his ears.   He rights himself. He feels smaller and smaller. Through morning’s haze, he looks into a thinning line of days. No telling what he’ll say out there or what stance he’ll take. But he tells himself that sure enough, he’ll…

Review: Madrigals by Caroline Goodwin

Reviewed by Peter Mladinic Poems are written by human beings “alone in a room” with language. They come out of lived lives. The poems in Madrigals come out of Caroline Goodwin’s lived life—things she has touched and ground she has stood on, alone and with others. Sometimes, that ground is a floor in a room, other times a forest floor, a meadow, a shoreline. Where she is, is very much a part of who she is. The speaker is a participant and uniquely herself with poems that convey the idea that nature is mostly innocent, society often corrupt, and the…

Fiction: Magic Show by Michael Long

Something that’s weird about me is that I have oven mitts for hands. Not actual oven mitts; that’s just what one of my old foster parents called them. He said it meant I was going to grow a lot in a few years. It never really mattered much to me, except for it looking kind of funny with the rest of me being normal size and my hands being so big. Large palms, long fingers—you get it. It wasn’t until I moved into my last foster home that I finally found a reason for them. My new foster dad had…

Stream this Sunday: BRIDGERTON, SEASON TWO, Balm for Our Battered Souls

By Gail Mackenzie-Smith Russia attacks Ukraine. North Korea tests a missile that can reach Washington, DC.  Skyrocketing rent, homelessness, drought, wildfires, a lingering virus constantly reinventing itself for the sole purpose of killing us. A collective hum of anxiety surrounds us. This overwhelming chaos we feel is out of our control; we can’t change anything. But we can escape it. And what better escape than into Netflix’s series Bridgerton, a world of wealth, beauty, love, desire, sex, and another time and place where the only problem plaguing anyone is which carriage to take to Lady Danbury’s ball? Season two of…

Review: Every Day the River Changes: Four Weeks Down the Magdalena, by Jordan Salama

 by Alessandro Romero   Jordan Salama demonstrated that, like gold, stories can be found by looking into a river. After all, his debut book, Every Day the River Changes, ultimately tells a formidable story about other stories. On an adventure down the Magdalena River, Colombia’s most treasured waterway, Salama aims to push back social stigmas that misconstrue the country’s conflicted reputation for drug cartels and guerrilla groups. As he asserts in the opening pages, “No longer is a book on Colombia guaranteed to be all about Pablo Escobar and his narco henchmen.” In four weeks, he encounters people from diverse…

TCR Talks with Jim Ruland

by Jenny Hayes In Corporate Rock Sucks: The Rise & Fall of SST Records, Jim Ruland chronicles the history of legendary independent punk/alternative rock label SST—an epic tale filled with rock-and-roll thrills, chaos, bad behavior, good times, shady financial maneuvers, lawsuits, cross-country tours, and many other twists and turns with an eclectic cast of misfits. Started in 1979 by Black Flag guitarist Greg Ginn, SST has churned out nearly four hundred releases, including influential records from now-well-known bands like Minutemen, Hüsker Dü, Bad Brains, and Sonic Youth. The label and its owner are known for eclectic taste and a nonconformist,…

A New Story: Capturing the World Through Photography

  by Fabrice B. Poussin The Coachella Review: Where were these photographs taken? Fabrice Poussin: All these were taken at White Sands National Monument in New Mexico.     TCR: How did you become interested in photography? FP: My sister, who is five years older than me, was first to get a camera and to experiment with it. I was nine then and was intrigued. As we grew older, she began buying more and more sophisticated equipment and processing her own work. I also learned to do this. She still travels the world, and so do I.     TCR: What do you like most…

Distancing by Anna Shannon

I flick on the coffee machine and open the fridge. Oh, right. I finished all the wine, ‘coping.’ I rub my eyes and tighten the belt of my pink satin robe. It has a tendency to slip, putting my negligee on display.  Course that never bothers Lionel unless the drapes are open. As if anyone can even see my breasts from that far away, even if they were open. I close the fridge and look past the kitchen island, past the extra-long white leather couch and matching ottoman to his liquor cabinet. I loathe rustic design, but he had it…

Two Poems by Ellen June Wright 

You Ask Me Where It Comes From   It comes from anywhere and everywhere.                     It’s the irritant that starts the nacre’s flow  within the shell, the thing that captures your                    attention and won’t let go. Somewhere in the back of your brain as you go about common duties:                      washing dishes, folding laundry,  it begins to form until you pry your mind                     open with a sharp knife, move the mantle  of the mollusk and roll the pearl between your fingers.                      Inspiration can come slowly, grow like a jewel  at the sea’s bottom or like a stone flung from across                      the street by some rude boy—drawing blood.  That’s…