by Edward Lee

This Is Your Wonder
Read More »by Brian Christopher Giddens
When I was a kid, I dreamed of being adopted. By the Happy Hollisters. Mr. and Mrs. Hollister already had five kids; what’s one more? My dad ran off before my legs grew long enough to follow. Mom loved him, which made her hate him for leaving her behind. She soothed her rage with whiskey, directing daily dramas from the kitchen of our split-level house, at war with a new man. I’d lie low in my bedroom, sprawled on my twin bed with its JCPenney sky blue polyester bedspread, devouring all the Happy Hollister books in the series. And when I finished, I’d read them again.
by Laura Catanzano
Isn’t it all worth it ifRead More »
for only one deep inhale
one fleeting moment
one peaceful sigh …
by Dane Erbach
“Harder!” Joe shouts from his podium, yells over violin bows stuck in the air like an unruly haircut. “Hit that bass drum as hard as you can!”
The orchestra spins toward me—rows of smarmy teenage smiles, annoyed; of middle schoolers wild with amusement, squirming their chairs.
“Have you ever heard Jurassic Park’s soundtrack?” Joe asks, his bald head shining in the fluorescent light. “The big BOOM at the beginning?”
Read More »by Diana L. Gustafson
“What’s death got to do with it?” Our museum tour guide grins as she makes the irreverent reference to Tina Turner’s best-selling hit. Patty knows how to grab the attention of Gen X tourists clustered around her in the grand centre block of Toronto’s Royal Ontario Museum. In a former life, she was probably everyone’s favourite high school music teacher.
Patty leans in. “Death simultaneously intrigues and repels us.” I know she’s speaking to me. I signed up for the afternoon tour because I was curious about burial rituals practised in ancient times. At least, that’s what I tell myself. Easier than facing tough questions haunting my messy life. I soon discover that each pause on the tour unearths relics of my struggles to make sense of love and death.
Read More »