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ISSUE ONE
The past is open in all ways. We wade into its murky banks, sinking our toes into its silt. We let its waters lap at our ankles, our knees, our waists, until we're carried along by an inevitable current.
The Passenger Pigeon's call once echoed along the banks of the so-called "Pigeon River" in North Carolina. During their annual migration, they would flock in massive murmurations, their bodies nesting snugly into the boughs of American Chestnuts.
The Smoky Mountains begin at the Pigeon River, stretching along its banks until reaching the Little Tennessee River, snaking from Mount Chapman to Tricorner Knob to Shuckstack. They rise out of a wild past, out of salamanders and black bears, out of limestone and schist. -
▲ Mountain Landscape Jon Boggs
Excerpt from Turf Angel: Journal of Photographer Roger Hoffman Howell, 1938–1941 Edited by Jonathan Felt Swift Editor’s Preface Entries span March 27, 1938, to November 12, 1941, and thematically can be divided into three developmental periods, namely of …Read More ►
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▲ Hoar Frost at Collins Gap Kristie Kachler
The camera eye closing some four thousand Sundays ago in on unremarkable husks of wild carrot or possibly yarrow that the hoar frost in veiling unveiled. It’s unromantic but their union was weather, unwilled conditions, one cold form sparking …Read More ►
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▲ SMHC on Cheoah Bald Susan Bartolme
A Walk With Nature You say you wished it was a snake that bit him. I wish it was a snake that had bitten him. Wasn’t no act of the judicious serpent, hun. Just a tiny little tick taking a tiny hungry bite. It’s one out of a billion …Read More ►
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▲ Hiking Club Mariah Rigg Gambler’s Chance
Laura wanted to see Grandaddy’s grave, so Billy drove us to Circle Cemetery. We’d never been to Briceville. Mama left the day Grandaddy died, and by the time Laura and I were born, she was living in Nashville, so far from the coal mining life she’d been born to …Read More ►
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▲ Dutch Roth Up A Tree Jeffrey Amos
An Average Age for a Tree A man I knew, wanting to understand how it felt to be a waterfall, climbed over granite and held himself where spring melt spilled over rock and crashed into a pool below. He must’ve been strong to hold on for so long, I thought as a boy. Now, I …Read More ►
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▲ Plants Circuitousness of a Sunrise Amber Albritton
after Helen [Norship] sitting among wildflowers, Big Bald, North Carolina by Roger Howell In my play wet plums daisy chains my longing into the wide azure defender backdrop sunned granite broken rocks the fortitude of youth arms wide circle circle circle me once more …Read More ►
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▲ Shelter on Appalachian Trail Gabriel Antonio Reed
Love Song of the Coywolf and I’ll be waxwing . . . — William Woolfitt Your name like the wild strawberry seed behind my first fang & its green bone shedding hides in the roots. I have at night sometimes asked to say it the one breath in …Read More ►
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▲ Kristie Kachler Erik Vass
The camera eye closing some four thousand Sundays ago in on unremarkable husks of wild carrot or possibly yarrow that the hoar frost in veiling unveiled. It’s unromantic but their union was weather, unwilled conditions, one cold form sparking …Read More ►
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▲ Gabriel Antonio Reed Johnathan Woods
Love Song of the Coywolf and I’ll be waxwing . . . — William Woolfitt Your name like the wild strawberry seed behind my first fang & its green bone shedding hides in the roots. I have at night sometimes asked to say it the one breath in …Read More ►
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▲ Elisa Razak Amber Albritton
after Helen [Norship] sitting among wildflowers, Big Bald, North Carolina by Roger Howell In my play wet plums daisy chains my longing into the wide azure defender backdrop sunned granite broken rocks the fortitude of youth arms wide circle circle circle me once more …Read More ►
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▲ Taylor Bogle Gabriel Antonio Reed
Love Song of the Coywolf and I’ll be waxwing . . . — William Woolfitt Your name like the wild strawberry seed behind my first fang & its green bone shedding hides in the roots. I have at night sometimes asked to say it the one breath in …Read More ►
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▲ Jon Boggs Anna Ambrister
Excerpt from Turf Angel: Journal of Photographer Roger Hoffman Howell, 1938–1941 Edited by Jonathan Felt Swift Editor’s Preface Entries span March 27, 1938, to November 12, 1941, and thematically can be divided into three developmental periods, namely of …Read More ►
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▲ Alex Raykowitz Susan Bartolme
A Walk With Nature You say you wished it was a snake that bit him. I wish it was a snake that had bitten him. Wasn’t no act of the judicious serpent, hun. Just a tiny little tick taking a tiny hungry bite. It’s one out of a billion …Read More ►
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▲ Jeff Baker Mariah Rigg
Laura wanted to see Grandaddy’s grave, so Billy drove us to Circle Cemetery. We’d never been to Briceville. Mama left the day Grandaddy died, and by the time Laura and I were born, she was living in Nashville, so far from the coal mining life she’d been born to …Read More ►
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▲ Curry Hackett Jeffrey Amos
A man I knew, wanting to understand how it felt to be a waterfall, climbed over granite and held himself where spring melt spilled over rock and crashed into a pool below. He must’ve been strong to hold on for so long, I thought as a boy. Now, I think it’s strange he …Read More ►