↓
 
  • Quarterly LitMag
    • Issue 38 June 2022
    • Issue 37 March 2022
    • Issue 36 December 2021
    • Issue 35 September 2021
    • Issue 34 June 2021
    • Issue 33 March 2021
    • Issue 32 December 2020
    • Issue 31 September 2020
    • Issue 30 June 2020
    • Issue 29 March 2020
    • Issue 28 December 2019
    • Issue 27 September 2019
    • Issue 26 June 2019
    • Issue 25 March 2019
    • Issue 24 December 2018
    • Issue 23 September 2018
    • Issue 22 June 2018
    • Issue 21 March 2018
    • Issue 20 December 2017
    • Issue 19 September 2017
    • Issue 18 June 2017
    • Issue 17 March 2017
    • Issue 16 December 2016
    • Issue 15 September 2016
    • Issue 14 June 2014
    • Issue 13 March 2016
    • Issue 12 December 2015
    • Issue 11 September 2015
    • Issue 10 June 2015
    • Joke Issue
    • Issue 9 March 2015
    • Issue 8 December 2014
    • Issue 7 September 2014
    • Issue 6 June 2014
    • Issue 5 March 2014
    • Issue 4 December 2013
    • Issue 3 September 2013
    • Issue 2 June 2013
    • Issue 1 March 2013
    • Preview Issue
  • Writing Workshops
    • Writing Workshops
    • Cleaver Clinics
    • Faculty
  • Bookstore
  • Comix
    • SIX DAYS IN NOVEMBER by Emily Steinberg
    • Emily Steinberg’s QUARANTINE JOURNAL
  • Other Features
    • Book Reviews
      • Cleaver Magazine Book Reviews
      • Alphabetical Index
    • Interviews
    • Craft Essays
      • Poetry Craft Essays
      • Fiction Craft Essays
      • Nonfiction Craft Essays
    • Ask June
  • About Us
    • Masthead
    • Emerging Artists
    • Subscribe
    • Opportunities
    • Contact
    • Submit
      • Submittable Portal
      • How to Submit or Suggest Book Reviews
      • How to Submit Craft Essays

Cleaver Magazine

Fresh-Cut Lit & Art

<< 1 2 3 4 5 6 … 43 44 >>  
 

Post navigation

← Older posts
Newer posts →

REVISING *IS* WRITING: Unlocking the Creative Potential of Self-Editing in Creative Nonfiction, a Master Class in Craft by Lise Funderburg, Sunday November 21, 2021

Cleaver Magazine Posted on August 9, 2021 by thwackAugust 18, 2021

For writers of all levels, synchronous

chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on August 9, 2021 in Fall 2021 Workshops, Workshops. (Click for permalink.)

Crafting a Great Personal Essay, taught by Lise Funderburg, October 10-31, 2021 [SOLD OUT]

Cleaver Magazine Posted on August 9, 2021 by thwackSeptember 16, 2021

For writers of all levels | Synchronous with asynchronous writing assignments

chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on August 9, 2021 in Fall 2021 Workshops, Workshops. (Click for permalink.)

VOICE LESSONS Identifying and Creating Perspective in Poetry, taught by Claire Oleson, October 16 – Nov 20, 2021

Cleaver Magazine Posted on August 7, 2021 by thwackAugust 9, 2021

For poets of all levels | Mostly asynchronous

chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on August 7, 2021 in Fall 2021 Workshops, Workshops. (Click for permalink.)

PRESENTATION AND PERFORMANCE: The Art of Reading Your Work in Public, a masterclass by Dinah Lenney, October 17, 2021

Cleaver Magazine Posted on August 7, 2021 by thwackSeptember 23, 2021

For writers of all levels and genres | Synchronous

chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on August 7, 2021 in Thwack. (Click for permalink.)

SWIMMING TO THE TOP OF THE TIDE: FINDING LIFE WHERE LAND AND WATER MEET, nonfiction by Patricia Hanlon, reviewed by Michael McCarthy

Cleaver Magazine Posted on August 7, 2021 by thwackAugust 7, 2021

SWIMMING TO THE TOP OF THE TIDE: Finding Life Where Land and Water Meet by Patricia Hanlon Bellevue Literary Press 224 pages reviewed by Michael McCarthy Six Ways to Look at a Marsh  Swimming to the Top of the Tide, Patricia’s Hanlon’s delightful debut book, follows her through New England’s Great Marsh as she swims its creeks and channels every day for an entire year. It is a captivating, adroit climate dispatch from Gloucester, Mass. that views the crisis of global warming through a local lens. In grappling with the potential destruction of her beloved home ecosystem, there emerge six ways of looking at the Great Marsh. 1. As a painter Hanlon puts pen to paper as beautifully as she puts brush to canvas. Before turning to the written word, she painted the Great Marsh in her free time, savoring its nuances of color, play of light, and dance of … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on August 7, 2021 in nonfiction reviews, reviews. (Click for permalink.)

RESEARCH AND WRITING: The Warp and Woof of Historical Fiction, a craft essay by Terry Roberts

Cleaver Magazine Posted on August 6, 2021 by thwackAugust 6, 2021

RESEARCH AND WRITING The Warp and Woof of Historical Fiction A Craft Essay by Terry Roberts When I stand before a crowd of curious readers and talk about my novels, which are generally understood to be “historical fiction,” invariably someone asks a version of the following: “How much research do you do before you start writing?” Sometimes that question is followed by more detailed queries about the kind and type of research: “Where did you go to find information?” and “Do you interview the experts?” and “How do you know when enough is enough and it’s time to start writing?” And one of my favorites: “To what extent are you constrained by history?” I understand the motivation behind all those questions, especially when asked by true historians (amateur or professional) or nascent fiction writers. But the truth is that I have never tackled the process of research and writing in … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on August 6, 2021 in Craft Essays, Fiction Craft Essays. (Click for permalink.)

TELLING STORIES OF DISABILITY AND ILLNESS taught by Michelle Hoppe, October 7-28, 2021

Cleaver Magazine Posted on August 4, 2021 by thwackAugust 9, 2021

Blended format suitable for all genres. 

chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on August 4, 2021 in Fall 2021 Workshops. (Click for permalink.)

SCORPIONFISH, a novel by Natalie Bakopoulos, reviewed by Aleksia Silverman

Cleaver Magazine Posted on August 2, 2021 by thwackAugust 2, 2021

SCORPIONFISH by Natalie Bakopoulos Tin House, 256 pages reviewed by Aleksia Mira Silverman Scorpionfish by Natalie Bakopoulos begins with a return. Mira, a Greek-born academic in her late thirties, arrives in Athens after her parents’ funeral. She must sort out the remainder of her parents’ affairs—Mira’s childhood home in Athens and another apartment on an island referred to only as N. While Mira is stranded outside her apartment building without a key, she has a chance encounter with her next-door neighbor, a sea captain. Later, the pair spend night after night on their adjoining balconies. While they are unable to see each other clearly, they share cigarettes, beer, and conversation. Both characters are grappling with grief, of sorts: Mira has lost her parents; the Captain has lost his position as a sea captain and is about to divorce his estranged wife. Bakopoulos splits the novel between Mira and the Captain’s perspective, their … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on August 2, 2021 in fiction reviews, reviews. (Click for permalink.)

WALKING ON COWRIE SHELLS , short stories by Nana Nkweti, reviewed by Juliana Lamy

Cleaver Magazine Posted on July 31, 2021 by thwackJuly 31, 2021

WALKING ON COWRIE SHELLS by Nana Nkweti Graywolf Press, 200 pages reviewed by Juliana Lamy The ten stories in Nana Nkweti’s debut short story collection Walking on Cowrie Shells offer tableaus of Blackness that are as varied as they are vivid. From tale to tale, Nkweti’s genres shift as surely as a living body does, limbs never at a single angle for long. The same assortment of stories that renders a realistic portrait of race and romance within New York City’s Black literary scene delves, with the same intrepid narration, into a crime drama’s layered violence and moral contemplation. Though varied, what anchors these stories within one another’s vicinity is a relentless inquisition of human connectivity, a tour that proceeds whether such connection hues grotesque and brutal or beautiful and palliative. Black girls navigate personal and cultural identity as the collection arcs through fandom space in “Rain Check at MomoCon.” … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on July 31, 2021 in fiction reviews, reviews. (Click for permalink.)

EMBRACE THE NELSON: Going Beyond the Pretty Narrative Voice, a craft essay by Dena Soffer

Cleaver Magazine Posted on July 27, 2021 by thwackJuly 27, 2021

EMBRACE THE NELSON: Going Beyond the Pretty Narrative Voice A craft essay by Dena Soffer In my first graduate writing workshop, David Gates told a true story about Raymond Carver working on a piece of writing that wasn’t going well. Carver worked and worked, experiencing the feeling that all of us writers have felt—the piece was going nowhere. All of a sudden, the phone rang. He picked up, and the voice on the other line asked to speak to someone named Nelson. It was a wrong number, but this timely interruption made Carver think that maybe what his story needed…was Nelson. He inserted a new character by that same name into his story, which soon became “Vitamins,” and this proved to be the exact change the narrative needed. In a craft lecture at Muse and the Marketplace Literary Conference, Charles Baxter called this type of character a “Captain Happen,” someone … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on July 27, 2021 in Craft Essays, Fiction Craft Essays. (Click for permalink.)

NOTES TO A YOUNG WRITER: On (Re)writing, (Re)vision, Editing, and Other Random Terms, a Craft Essay by Gayathri Prabhu

Cleaver Magazine Posted on July 25, 2021 by thwackJuly 28, 2021

NOTES TO A YOUNG WRITER On (Re)writing, (Re)vision, Editing, and Other Random Terms A Craft Essay by Gayathri Prabhu The young writer asks me, the mentor whose name is vertical on book spines, a question about writing they wish would go away. No doubt they can write, they know that, they love that, but the question is really about rewriting. What they seek is vigor and inspiration in writing, the kind of dazzling force that they believe only spontaneity can create, and none of that squares up to my advice about reflection, revision, and molten sentences constantly recast. Yes, yes, they agree with me about the demands of crafting, of sentences that need trimming or ideas that need extending, but what does one do with the air of drudgery and scrutiny that is evoked by rewriting? The young writer would like to believe in something that is complete in the … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on July 25, 2021 in Craft Essays, Fiction Craft Essays. (Click for permalink.)

THE FUNNY IN MEMOIR: Alison Bechdel, Dinty W. Moore, and Trey Popp, a craft essay by Beth Kephart

Cleaver Magazine Posted on July 23, 2021 by thwackJuly 23, 2021

  THE FUNNY IN MEMOIR: Alison Bechdel, Dinty W. Moore, and Trey Popp A Craft Essay by Beth Kephart A few years ago, a friend who had first come to know me through my books and was slowly coming to know me through myself—our emails, our occasional actual conversations, our letters, our back-and-forth gifts—sent a note my way that included (I’m paraphrasing here; none of my friends speak as strangely as I write) this question: How is it that I’ve known you for all these years and I’m only now learning that you are funny? Why have you hidden your funny? I wondered then, I wonder now, what frees me to precipitate the giggle. And why I so rarely feel so free. And why funny isn’t in most of the books I write, why I tend, on the page, toward the not-hilarious me. Writing funny, especially in memoir, is a … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on July 23, 2021 in Craft Essays, Craft Essays>Creative Nonfiction Craft Essays. (Click for permalink.)

EVER GIVEN by Sara Davis

Cleaver Magazine Posted on June 30, 2021 by thwackJune 29, 2021

EVER GIVEN by Sara Davis Because the spring tide comes in on its own time, because the earth goes on turning and the moon goes on circling around us and the ocean eddies unevenly but inevitably between them, because the seawater rises even in the desert latitudes of the world where scorching winds blow dust in the eyes of sailors, the tide came in on the seventh day after the Ever Given lodged slantwise in the throat of the Red Sea like a crust of dry bread. It was because the seawater welled in the deep trench men cut between continents, because the seawater poured into the furrows men scratched into the muddy banks where her bow sank into the sand, because the seawater flowed under and around her steel hull, that this colossal obstruction, this beached vessel vast enough to be seen from space, this ship of shipments simply … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on June 30, 2021 in Flash, Issue 34, Nonfiction. (Click for permalink.)

AN UNFULFILLED DREAM by Anika Pavel

Cleaver Magazine Posted on June 29, 2021 by thwackJune 29, 2021

AN UNFULFILLED DREAM by Anika Pavel Through the COVID-19 lockdown in spring 2020, people were buying everything in sight. During a visit to my local supermarket, the empty shelves were familiar. In my youth, in communist Czechoslovakia, empty shelves were a norm, not the result of a pandemic. A memory flooded in. I had to put my hand over my still unmasked mouth to hide the smile as I joined a line of people waiting for a new supply of toilet paper. I came back to the apartment empty-handed and told my husband how we dealt with toilet paper shortages back then. Under communism, toilet paper was quite often a scarce item. There was never enough of it to store up, so we used newspapers. We children were tasked with tearing the pages of the newspaper into squares, then crushing them in our hands before putting them into a shoebox that … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on June 29, 2021 in Flash, Issue 34, Nonfiction. (Click for permalink.)

cleave. by Courtney Elizabeth Young

Cleaver Magazine Posted on June 29, 2021 by thwackJune 29, 2021

cleave. by Courtney Elizabeth Young Here are the ways I have heard it happens: in bed, waking to wheezing, breathing in loose clumps lining your pillow. Out with friends, falling into your Cobb salad, your Pinot. In the pool, raking waters in a panic, clawing to clean up the unhinged mess you have become. Wiping sweat away from your brow after removing your garden hat, now filled with clumps. In the conference room, before a presentation, onto your notecards. With windows down, enjoying a summer breeze until you see it in the rearview mirror, whipping and whirling away and out of your car. Fast, far, and away, anywhere and everywhere, because it defies boundaries. Here is how it happened to me. I am finished running. There was no sun, but my scalp burns, it itches. I didn’t expect this process to be painful down to the follicles, but it only … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on June 29, 2021 in Issue 34, Nonfiction. (Click for permalink.)

manic / depressive by Savannah Slone

Cleaver Magazine Posted on June 29, 2021 by thwackJune 29, 2021

manic / depressive by Savannah Slone i only exist in spectrum extremes floating amongst personality binaries hard cut offs…….. prescription intimacy learning to top the in betweens dusting for my own fingerprints in a house made up entirely of stained glass ………………………of sunday bath mat moldings …………….erotic velvet desert mirrors floor ………………………………………………..ceiling violet skylight blue flame rage love concentrate false memories sky flood my marionette hands choreographing hillscapes folding in on themselves constellations underwater, ……spot lit haunt monochromatic weekdays i am only wallpaper self-gaslighting, a welcoming home. Savannah Slone is a queer, bipolar, and disabled writer. She is the Editor-in-Chief of Homology Lit and the author of An Exhalation of Dead Things (CLASH Books, 2021) alongside two chapbooks. Her work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, and Best Small Fictions.       Cover Design by Karen Rile

chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on June 29, 2021 in Issue 34, Poetry. (Click for permalink.)

NITS by Marsha Blitzer

Cleaver Magazine Posted on June 29, 2021 by thwackJune 29, 2021

NITS by Marsha Blitzer The native mums told me it was inevitable, ……………………………………………………..nobody’s fault. ………………..In the changing room ………………………..……………………………they swapped ………………..uniform jumpers and caps. Soon I saw my sons scratching their skulls. ………………..Sesame seeds,   each louse ……………………………………………………..had claws attached to hair ………………..where it was warmest— ……………………………………………………..the nape of the neck ………………..or around the ears. They laid nits, ………………..ten or so a day.   The brown pinheads hatched, ……………………………………………………..first into nymphs, ………………..then adults — left behind empty egg cases ……………………………………………………..glued on. Neat rows clung with military precision ………………..to the shafts.   Mother swore by mayonnaise ……………………………………………………..to suffocate the tiny ………………..wingless insects, or vinegar ……………………………………………………..to dehydrate them. Gasoline or kerosene, a less acceptable ………………..alternative, even for her.   I chose disinfecting shampoo, ……………………………………………………..used a fine-toothed ………………..comb to tease them out ……………………………………………………..at night – parsed one section then the next, egg by egg, ………………..each strand of hair.   We talked about the … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on June 29, 2021 in Issue 34, Poetry. (Click for permalink.)

HOW A GIRL GROWS UP by Lindsay Rutherford

Cleaver Magazine Posted on June 29, 2021 by thwackAugust 27, 2021

HOW A GIRL GROWS UP by Lindsay Rutherford I don’t remember who suggests skinny dipping (me?), but none of us have our suits on anymore. At least I don’t. I am twelve, and we are at a friend’s remote lake property for a swim team picnic. It’s after 9 PM—many families have left already—and dark, so there’s not much to see, just the occasional fleeting glimmer of something pale beneath the lake’s surface. Flesh, ghost, or fish, it’s hard to tell. It smells like the end of summer—tang of smoke from burnt bluegrass fields, the day’s heat evaporating from boulders and docks, pine needles crushed in dirt beneath bare feet. Naked bodies slip through the water around me like otters. On shore, our parents shake their heads and laugh and hold towels for when we decide to emerge. Some of the less intrepid swimmers huddle in sweatshirts or wrapped in … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on June 29, 2021 in Issue 34, Nonfiction. (Click for permalink.)

DOUBLE FOLDED by Tricia Park         

Cleaver Magazine Posted on June 29, 2021 by thwackJune 29, 2021

DOUBLE FOLDED by Tricia Park                                                            Every Korean girl I know freaks out about going back to Korea. Some are yuhaksaeng, the Korean born who study, work, and live abroad. Some are like me, American born and returning to Korea for the first or third or one hundredth time. We represent a range of the diaspora, living in various states of exile. “I’m so ugly,” we sigh, pulling at our faces as we peer at ourselves, our noses close to the mirrors, examining every pore, every hair, every line, imagined or no. “Oh, I’m so fat,” we moan, pulling at our arms, our thighs, our middles. “I’m going to get an earful. My mother/my grandmothers/my aunties will be so angry that I’m … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on June 29, 2021 in Issue 34, Nonfiction. (Click for permalink.)

THE SKULL by Marc Tweed

Cleaver Magazine Posted on June 29, 2021 by thwackJune 29, 2021

THE SKULL by Marc Tweed Marv. Teenagers found him washed up on the sand, bloated and bright in his favorite Hawaiian shirt. A crowd gathered and called the police, but not before those who found him took his wallet, wedding ring, car keys. The car itself. Authorities appeared, took pictures, bundled him up and drove his body past the palm trees and liquor stores to the morgue in Oakridge on 31st. There were several other bodies already there so he waited his turn, something he’d always found difficult. ◊ Lorraine. Around dinner time, a Broward County detective came to Marv and Lorraine’s condo in Plantation with two shoegazing deputies. He told her he wished everyone had their names sewn into their clothing because it would make his job a lot easier. Lorraine just looked at him with her mouth open. It was late when they left. She drank a whole … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on June 29, 2021 in Fiction, Issue 34. (Click for permalink.)

LOAVES by Lizzy Lemieux

Cleaver Magazine Posted on June 29, 2021 by thwackJune 29, 2021

LOAVES by Lizzy Lemieux My daughter tells me her dream while I pack her lunchbox. What a terrifying nightmare! I say and kiss the top of her head. She narrows her eyes. Mom, she says, It was not a nightmare. It was a dream. She smiles, showing off two lost teeth. I do not correct her. Even though it is polite, when you dream up terrible things, to pretend that they are unwanted. But she is still learning, still puzzling over the sound an ‘o’ makes. When is it a short exhale? When is it a sharp howl? I add a sticky note to her lunch and make myself proud. Motherhood is contained in small gestures. Later, I get the call. My daughter has decided today the ‘o’ makes the howling sound. When I arrive at her school, the teacher says, Your daughter is crying because she cannot read the … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on June 29, 2021 in Fiction, Issue 34. (Click for permalink.)

Shelter by Esther Ra

Cleaver Magazine Posted on June 29, 2021 by thwackJune 29, 2021

Shelter by Esther Ra Every evening before we climb into the car, I tap the hood politely, and wait for the street cats to leap out underneath—gray cloudbursts of mist- matted fur, supple flash of muscle and sinew. Even in the winter, slices of sunlight butter the walls, caress the faceless square windows. Last night I dreamed about laughing with someone I missed, the cold trickle of fear when I felt myself stirring awake. In English class, my student signs his letters to his mother with —softly, your son— and I don’t attempt to correct him. The cats are screaming hoarsely in the night, so crazed with joy in each other’s thin warmth, they long for the whole world to know. If only everything could be a little bit softer. The snow falls soundless in the golden light, blurring every edge to a gently rubbed-out mistake. Esther Ra is the … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on June 29, 2021 in Issue 34, Poetry. (Click for permalink.)

SMALL CONSOLATION by Diana Rickard

Cleaver Magazine Posted on June 29, 2021 by thwackJune 29, 2021

SMALL CONSOLATION by Diana Rickard you make an offering to posterity  ghastly aesthetic cauterizes the virile  there is a corniness to the late wave and you absorb  because of resemblance  because of what drifts  and sifts through the sieve  all of it  you fought and then you learned and then used humor to veil your motives  the prosaic shame of waiting, a penny dreadful of anticipation  in half-hearted syntax you question risk  a lilac apple flecked with gold  the edifying volume that is always put off, and the cuteness of everyone’s pets  nostalgic for an attention span, you are moved by a hesitant apology  the inbox contains an update. a question about snacks. a second confirmation  you recognize a silhouette on the toilet  familiar like that dull bonding when a celebrity dies  you love the bottle but hate the fragrance  merely balancing, on coiled spine  porous and commanding, generous and small  … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on June 29, 2021 in Issue 34, Poetry. (Click for permalink.)

THE RECKONING by Emily Steinberg

Cleaver Magazine Posted on June 29, 2021 by thwackJuly 1, 2021

THE RECKONING by Emily Steinberg The Reckoning is a 22-page full-color visual narrative, that illustrates our planet’s stark environmental crisis on a visceral gut level in words and images. It explores how our sustained misuse of natural resources is intertwined and connected, on micro and macro levels, impacting everything from climate change to how the Covid 19 Virus was transmitted from animals to humans. It imagines how we can do better. The Reckoning, supported by a grant from The Studio for Sustainability and Social Action, Penn State University, was created in response to the United Nations Sustainable Development Goal of Responsible Consumption and Production. —Emily Steinberg Emily Steinberg is a multi-disciplinary artist with a focus on painting and visual narrative and her work has been shown across the United States and Europe. Most recently, her first cartoon and Daily Shouts story were published by The New Yorker. Since 2013, her … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on June 29, 2021 in Issue 34, Visual Narrative. (Click for permalink.)

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA by Christine Muller

Cleaver Magazine Posted on June 29, 2021 by thwackJune 29, 2021

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA by Christine Muller They sat the way they wished they could always sit: together, with wine at their fingertips, a cooling breeze in the air, and the fading day’s light sparkling like magic across the terrace’s gold fixtures. Cleopatra told a story. “He was so funny, you know. Well, of course you know, you knew him. This one time, he told me, he said to me, he said, ‘Hey, Clea: workin’ hard or hardly workin’?’ Oh, so funny. Too funny.” “That’s—kind of funny, I guess.” Antony took another sip from his cup. “And so wise. This other time he said to me, ‘Clea, do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life.’ So true, you know? So wise.” “Mm.” “What’s that?” “Oh. Nothing. I didn’t say anything.” “Are you OK? You seem, I don’t know…bored.” “I’m not bored. It’s just—” “What?” “I just … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on June 29, 2021 in Flash, Issue 34. (Click for permalink.)

NIGHT VISION by Kim Magowan and Michelle Ross

Cleaver Magazine Posted on June 29, 2021 by thwackAugust 27, 2021

NIGHT VISION by Kim Magowan and Michelle Ross They were cooling off in Amanda’s pool—three women submerged to their necks. With the moon behind them and in the ungenerous glow of the stringed lights on Amanda’s porch, Amanda’s and Louise’s faces were silhouettes. Toni had the most unfortunate position, facing the moon. Light beaded her skin like sweat as she listened to Amanda talk about whether or not she should break up with Boone, whom they’d referred to for months as The Hot Chiropractor, even after Amanda had started dating him. The problem with Boone was that he was boring. “When he talks, my mind drifts,” Amanda said. “I try to focus, but it’s like trying to listen to my CPA, or to Miss Engler, my PreCalc teacher back in high school. I actually had to dig my nails into my arm to stop myself from falling asleep in her … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on June 29, 2021 in Issue 34. (Click for permalink.)

MICE by Meg Pokrass and Rosie Garland

Cleaver Magazine Posted on June 29, 2021 by thwackJune 29, 2021

MICE by Meg Pokrass and Rosie Garland The cork shoots out of the bottle, bounces off the wall and loses itself behind the sofa. Don’t bother, she says. It’s too late. He’s already clasping the curved arm of the Chesterfield and trying to shift it away from the wall, one grunting millimeter at a time. He’s puffing, face screwed up. He makes the same face when he’s on top of her. She almost laughs but manages to keep her voice steady. Why are you…? Corks attract mice, stupid, he says. Your happy little furry family. He points a fat finger, laughs at his joke. His nickname for her is ‘Mouse’. It never used to feel this heavy, Ms. Mouse, he grumbles, wrestling with the sofa. We haven’t got rodents, she says, staring at her toes. They have no pattering of small feet, of any description. Leave it to you to … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on June 29, 2021 in Flash, Issue 34. (Click for permalink.)

Digital Paintings by Joe Lugara

Cleaver Magazine Posted on June 29, 2021 by laserjJune 29, 2021

DIGITAL PAINTINGS by Joe Lugara These works are from two distinct series of digital paintings, Framework and Dark Oddities. I enjoy the clash of the man-made and the organic, the grids contrasting with the shape-shifting blobs. The Framework series asks one of those short questions that begs a long answer: Am I inside or outside? The pictures offer seemingly objective experiences that turn uncomfortably subjective on the viewer. Does being on the “inside” mean being trapped or incarcerated, or does it mean being in the know and accepted? The drops and splotches in the Dark Oddities are likewise objectively/subjectively charged. Alluding to specimens on microscope slides, they suggest things observed—scrutinized—and then make a U-turn on the viewer. The question they pose to me is whether their seemingly bloody forms are healthy or diseased. I find that my response depends on the size of the blotch or drop, and especially its … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on June 29, 2021 in Art, Issue 34. (Click for permalink.)

GIRL ON FIRE by Courtney Thorne-Smith

Cleaver Magazine Posted on June 29, 2021 by thwackJune 29, 2021

GIRL ON FIRE by Courtney Thorne-Smith She is bent over the sink. The ends of her long dark hair dip in and out of the bubbles as she circles the sponge slowly over the already clean pan. “What’s wrong?” he asks. “Nothing,” she says, watching a single tear drop into the sink and disappear under the soapy water. I’ll have to remember this feeling, she thinks, in case I ever need to play a woman with a broken heart. As an actress, only half of her attention is ever in her actual life. The other half is watching, directing, mining moments to use later in her work. “I can tell something is wrong, Juliet. Just tell me.” He reaches over her to take a glass from the drainer. She flinches when his chest brushes her back. “Really? I can’t even touch you now?” “You hurt me.” “Just now? When my … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on June 29, 2021 in Flash, Issue 34. (Click for permalink.)

PAPER MACHE ON THE DRAIN by Soheon Rhee

Cleaver Magazine Posted on June 29, 2021 by thwackJune 29, 2021

Paper mache on the drain by Soheon Rhee The day of Chuseok, I remember that you wanted to cut my dress and how you made confetti of silk on the basin with the remaining the cloth of my hanbok jagged. I had closed my eyes, and when I woke, darkness descended through the window panes and eomma was wearing an apron and looked at me oddly. I cannot hear her words from the pounding rain outside, I can see the shadows hanging in between the skinned branches of an oak tree. Mother is now cleaning the dishes and I hear your footsteps receding before you find me, you are holding on the silk I had planned to wear today, smiling as if you had forgotten. Soheon Rhee is a thirteen-year-old student who is currently attending International School of Manila. During her free time, she likes hanging out with her friends … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on June 29, 2021 in Issue 34, Poetry. (Click for permalink.)

PLENTY OF FISH by Dylan Cook

Cleaver Magazine Posted on June 29, 2021 by thwackJune 29, 2021

PLENTY OF FISH by Dylan Cook Matt felt the morning dew jump against his legs as his feet flattened the seagrass in his way. He had his fishing pole slung over his shoulder like a bindle and his tackle box swinging at his side. The sun had crested over the ocean, already strong and getting stronger as the light shifted from orange to white. On a good day, no one bothered him on this beach. He could expect to see one or two old retirees fishing too, but they usually kept their distance and never said anything to him besides the obligatory “How’re the fish today?” to which he’d respond with either “Not a nibble” or “Got a few keepers.” Beyond that, they all had a tacit agreement to keep the peace by keeping to themselves. Matt baited his line with some baby squids he’d picked up on his drive … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on June 29, 2021 in Fiction, Issue 34. (Click for permalink.)

A PIERCE OF ANGELS by KC Pedersen

Cleaver Magazine Posted on June 29, 2021 by thwackAugust 27, 2021

A PIERCE OF ANGELS by KC Pedersen Light airs! Light airs! A pierce of angels! Theodore Roethke …it is not the skill of the hand / That writes poetry, but water, trees, / And the sky which is clear to us even though it’s dark. Czeslaw Milosz I was torn between the desire to show how well I was dealing with things and the imperative to show that I was not O.K., that this man’s actions had derailed my life in a thousand ways. Rebecca Makkai Each time, Greta recreates her grief from scratch. There is no mercy for time served. She bobs to the surface like some stupid laughing doll.  Well, what did he know? How many times had he been raped? Greta could tell him that you went numb and left your body to float somewhere near the sparkly sprayed-on ceiling. That way, you weren’t really there. But … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on June 29, 2021 in Issue 34, Nonfiction. (Click for permalink.)

SPONGE BATH by Tracy Rothschild Lynch

Cleaver Magazine Posted on June 20, 2021 by thwackJune 29, 2021

SPONGE BATH by Tracy Rothschild Lynch The no-nonsense, middle-aged Filipino nurse tells me, pushing up her smudged glasses, that I need to clean up a bit down there. She waves her tiny hands dramatically around her own groin area and then shuffles over to me, all action. Am I embarrassed? Maybe. For some reason I feel like I’ve let her down. On day three in the hospital, day three with no breasts, day three of forcing a smile each time a visitor says knock knock out loud like it is funny, I guess it is time to get back to life. I simultaneously hate her and feel bad for hating her because she is only doing her job. Vera, her name is. I see the pleasant serif font on the RN badge dangling around her neck. As instructed, I stay as still as possible while she hustles. Does she know … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on June 20, 2021 in Flash, Issue 34, Nonfiction. (Click for permalink.)

CATALOGUE BABY: A MEMOIR OF INFERTILITY by Myriam Steinberg, reviewed by Brian Burmeister

Cleaver Magazine Posted on June 14, 2021 by thwackJune 14, 2021

CATALOGUE BABY: A MEMOIR OF INFERTILITY by Myriam Steinberg; illustrations by Christache Page Two, 304 pages reviewed by Brian Burmeister The graphic memoir Catalogue Baby shares the deeply personal fertility journey of Myriam Steinberg. Compelled to leave her career, passion, and life as a festival organizer to pursue motherhood as a single 40-year-old, Steinberg’s immensely honest memoir chronicles the intense challenges she faced getting pregnant and carrying to term. Throughout the five years of her life covered in the book, Steinberg skillfully navigates shame, guilt, and loss in ways that help us understand the pain and frustration she was experiencing while balancing those brutal realities with humor. Among other amusements, we are welcomed to the literal “Carnival of Dreams Brought to You by I.V.F” where at the egg-shot carnival game you are given “10 shots for the price of your dignity and patience.” One of Steinberg’s many strengths is making … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on June 14, 2021 in graphic narrative reviews, reviews. (Click for permalink.)

DEAR BEAR, poems by Ae Hee Lee Platypus Press, reviewed by Juniper Jordan Cruz

Cleaver Magazine Posted on June 1, 2021 by thwackJune 12, 2021

DEAR BEAR by Ae Hee Lee Platypus Press, 42 pages Reviewed by Juniper Jordan Cruz Dear Bear begins with the gripping dedication, “For Daniel, to the end,” and from there, takes its readers to the end of the world it introduces. This is author Ae Hee Lee’s world that exists in a collection of letters addressed to the titular Bear—who is both a real and parabolic bear. The book is set in a forest, “at the border of every ruin, of every past home.” The forest is also both real and parabolic as a form of borderland, acting as a Romantic landscape: sublime and shaped around the speaker’s psyche. Because of this, the forest becomes a vessel for the speaker’s exploration of the relationship between her and Bear. Ae Hee Lee establishes the forest as a post-apocalyptic setting to navigate both the relief and anxiety that comes from surviving an … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on June 1, 2021 in poetry reviews, reviews. (Click for permalink.)

THE NATURAL MOTHER OF THE CHILD: A MEMOIR OF NONBINARY PARENTHOOD by Krys Malcolm Belc, reviewed by Beth Kephart

Cleaver Magazine Posted on June 1, 2021 by thwackJune 1, 2021

THE NATURAL MOTHER OF THE CHILD: A MEMOIR OF NONBINARY PARENTHOOD Krys Malcolm Belc Counterpoint Press 304 pages Reviewed by Beth Kephart Krys Malcolm Belc—nonbinary, transmasculine, and talented—begins his memoir with an Irish dance—“all jumping and pounding, the tight black laces against my calves, the bang of hard shoes on the floor.” He is young and the music permeates, and now, he writes, “I try to remember what it was like then, when I was four and five and six, if I was unhappy. I am supposed to remember being unhappy, but mostly what I remember is what it’s like to stand there knowing the dance is about to start.” Supposed to remember. Supposed to be. Supposed to become. But suppose does not fit the life Belc will live. Competitive, just like his father. Prone to moments of rage. Enrolled in an all-girls’ Catholic school, dressed in the costumery of girlhood. … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on June 1, 2021 in nonfiction reviews, reviews. (Click for permalink.)

RESONANT PLACES: Houses We Live in, Homes that Live in Our Writing, a Fiction Craft Essay by Ellen Prentiss Campbell

Cleaver Magazine Posted on May 8, 2021 by thwackMay 8, 2021

RESONANT PLACES Houses We Live in, Homes that Live in Our Writing A Fiction Craft Essay by Ellen Prentiss Campbell Memory and imagination cast spells. Fiction is inspired by places as well as temps perdue. Many of us have dreamed last night that we went back to—well, not Rebecca’s Manderley but to a place from our past, one that resonates. Some places are lost to us even if the building remains because we can never again enter and live there. Perhaps we can peer in, but we cannot look out the windows again, never see the way the world is framed from within that particular shelter again. Sometimes indeed an entire small world is lost to us. Although years later we may wander through a campus again, a neighborhood, the people are gone or so changed as to be unrecognizable. Without our remembered familiars, it’s empty as a stage set. … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on May 8, 2021 in Craft Essays, Fiction Craft Essays. (Click for permalink.)

Juliana Lamy

Cleaver Magazine Posted on May 5, 2021 by Sydney TammarineMay 5, 2021

Juliana Lamy is a Haitian fiction writer from South Florida. She holds a BA in History and Literature from Harvard University, where she won their 2018 Le Baron Russell Briggs Undergraduate Fiction Prize. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Split Lip Magazine, Pidgeonholes, The Conium Review, and elsewhere. She is an incoming MFA candidate at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. 

chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on May 5, 2021 in Thwack. (Click for permalink.)

AFTERBURN: Flash Revision, taught by Kathryn Kulpa | August 8-29

Cleaver Magazine Posted on May 3, 2021 by thwackMay 3, 2021

For writers of all levels |Mostly asynchronous with some optional Zoom sessions

chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on May 3, 2021 in Summer 2021 Workshops, Thwack. (Click for permalink.)

FLASH BOOTCAMP, taught by Kathryn Kulpa, Four Weekend Sessions in June-July, 2021

Cleaver Magazine Posted on May 3, 2021 by thwackMay 28, 2021

For writers of all levels | Zoom sessions and asynchronous writing

chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on May 3, 2021 in Summer 2021 Workshops. (Click for permalink.)

Moriah Hampton

Cleaver Magazine Posted on May 2, 2021 by Sydney TammarineMay 22, 2021

Moriah Hampton received her PhD in Modernist Literature from SUNY-Buffalo. Her fiction, poetry, and photography have appeared in Entropy, Rune Literary Collection, Hamilton Stone Review, The Sonder Review, and elsewhere. She currently teaches in the Writing and Critical Inquiry Program at SUNY-Albany.

chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on May 2, 2021 in Thwack. (Click for permalink.)

PLAYING WITH POINT OF VIEW A Workshop for Fiction Writers, taught by Cleaver Founding Editor Karen Rile, June 9-30

Cleaver Magazine Posted on April 17, 2021 by thwackJune 4, 2021

For fiction writers of all levels | Synchronous with asynchronous components

chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on April 17, 2021 in Summer 2021 Workshops, Workshops. (Click for permalink.)

VOICE LESSONS Identifying and Creating Perspective in Poetry, taught by Claire Oleson, July 10 – August 14

Cleaver Magazine Posted on April 13, 2021 by thwackApril 17, 2021

For poets of all levels | Mostly asynchronous

chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on April 13, 2021 in Summer 2021 Workshops, Workshops. (Click for permalink.)

GRAPHIC PSYCHE: A Workshop in Visual Narrative Memoir taught by Emily Steinberg, June 5-26, 2021

Cleaver Magazine Posted on April 13, 2021 by thwackApril 13, 2021

For writers & visual artists of all levels | Synchronous

chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on April 13, 2021 in Summer 2021 Workshops, Workshops. (Click for permalink.)

FUND WHAT YOU FEAR by Marnie Goodfriend

Cleaver Magazine Posted on March 29, 2021 by thwackMarch 29, 2021

FUND WHAT YOU FEAR by Marnie Goodfriend I lie in bed, my eyes fixated on the fruit trees outside my bare windows. I do not have insomnia. I am bone tired. Recently, my pain is nocturnal. My body waits until my head makes contact with the pillow before fireworks burst in my pelvic cavity. I bend my knees like an upside-down V and press my feet into the mattress. V is for vulture. violence. victim. vampire. vagina. The other day, my friend Melissa told me about the fund-what-you-fear philosophy. Her words bloat several text bubbles. They remind me of our distended stomachs: agitated, acting out, hardened. There’s something like less than one dollar a day that goes toward endometriosis research and when the medical world is predominantly men … it’s easy to see why they never push money towards diseases that only affect people with a uterus. Is this a … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on March 29, 2021 in Issue 33, Nonfiction. (Click for permalink.)

AT A CAFÉ IN VICTORIA, BC TWO GREY-HAIRED MEN TALK ABOUT LOVE by Kate Peterson

Cleaver Magazine Posted on March 29, 2021 by thwackMarch 29, 2021

AT A CAFÉ IN VICTORIA, BC TWO GREY-HAIRED MEN TALK ABOUT LOVE by Kate Peterson She’s in the garden all the time and I’ve got my bridge, and the next thing you know you’re living different lives. One asks the other, If she finds another guy do you think you’d still be friends? I wonder if this is generational or national, men talking this way out in public, over a cup of coffee. My ex was absorbed in his book and didn’t notice, which may also be generational or national. After a while he eyed me taking notes and guessed I was writing about him. He looked up to say he just realized he is more American than he wants to be. Wind lifted in my chest, waves of loneliness and love I’ll never understand. The way it rises and falls. The men started up a game of Mahjong and … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on March 29, 2021 in Issue 33, Poetry. (Click for permalink.)

LAST GESTURE by James Miller

Cleaver Magazine Posted on March 29, 2021 by thwackMarch 29, 2021

LAST GESTURE by James Miller We eat on the porch when evening heat recedes. Lamps hang from the oak. The Conrad novel rests between us—eighty-nine pages left to speak aloud. As you reach out for a drink, we see a tiny frog, its soft green curves still as summer, perched on the lip of your glass. He leaps, alights on the secret agent, then the near-blankness of our table, dry and smeared with tree sap. Motionless, aware. You offer a thumbnail of water and he rests there, half-submerged. We fall silent, but miss the last gesture. He is gone. James Miller won the Connecticut Poetry Award in 2020. Recent poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Typehouse, Rabid Oak, North Dakota Quarterly, Yemassee, Phoebe, Mantis, Scoundrel Time, Permafrost, Grey Sparrow Review, Blue River, 8 Poems, After Happy Hour, Two Hawks Quarterly, Concho River Review, Sweet Tree Review, SOFTBLOW, and elsewhere. … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on March 29, 2021 in Issue 33, Poetry. (Click for permalink.)

SENSITIVE SKIN: Ceramics by Constance McBride

Cleaver Magazine Posted on March 29, 2021 by laserjMarch 29, 2021

SENSITIVE SKIN Ceramics by Constance McBride “Everyone wants to have an illusion of themselves, that they’re a bit attractive, but the older I get it seems more important to be absolutely honest and direct.” — Chantal Joffe When I was a kid I discovered Seventeen Magazine and it really messed me up. I recently googled it and was shocked to see that it debuted in 1944. I always had the impression that it began in the ‘60s or ‘70s when I was a subscriber. From Wikipedia: “It began as a publication geared toward inspiring teen girls to become model workers and citizens. Soon after its debut, Seventeen took a more fashion and romance oriented approach in presenting its material while promoting self-confidence in young women.” I have to disagree with this idea of promoting self-confidence in young women. What I think it really did was cause many young women to angst about their faces … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on March 29, 2021 in Issue 33, Thwack. (Click for permalink.)

LITTLE GRIEF SONG, JULY 2020 by Laura Tanenbaum

Cleaver Magazine Posted on March 29, 2021 by thwackMarch 29, 2021

LITTLE GRIEF SONG, JULY 2020 by Laura Tanenbaum “But the great dark birds of history screamed and plunged into our personal weather They were headed somewhere else but their beaks and pinions drove along the shore, through the rages of fog where we stood, saying I” —Adrienne Rich, “In those Years” Today we took the kids to the cemetery, for escape. No, it’s fine we explain to bewildered out-of-towners. A place to go. Historical. You ask, am I grieving: OK, then, yes, I’m grieving. The last day on the playground. Someone sent me a picture and a joke. Said we were all doomed; we touch our faces so much. Remember that? I thought then that I had never touched that person’s face, not even by accident, and now I never would. The kids find graves of two brothers from Maryland who fought on opposite sides of the last battle of … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on March 29, 2021 in Issue 33, Poetry. (Click for permalink.)

SAN ANDREAS HEAVEN by Nick Olson

Cleaver Magazine Posted on March 29, 2021 by thwackMarch 29, 2021

SAN ANDREAS HEAVEN by Nick Olson I remember back in the day Nick used to try to get to Heaven. Heaven was a glitched-out place in San Andreas where nothing made sense or seemed quite real, and Nick would come home most days, boot up the PS2, and try again to get into it. There was a specific building in San Andreas where, if you went inside and used a cheat code to spawn a jetpack, you could fly through a certain part of the ceiling that didn’t have proper clipping. There was just one spot where you could fly through, a place that the developers had overlooked. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. This wasn’t something you were ever supposed to be able to come across just walking and jumping around. But if you knew what to look for and you did everything in just the right way, you … chop! chop! read more!

Thwack this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
  • More
  • Click to print (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
Published on March 29, 2021 in Fiction, Issue 33. (Click for permalink.)

Post navigation

← Older posts
Newer posts →

SUPPORT CLEAVER

Cleaver is an independent magazine funded through the generosity of its staff and voluntary supporters. Cleaver Magazine is free to all subscribers and readers—please consider a donation! You can donate directly via PayPal:



Deadline: August 1

SUMMER LIGHTNING '22 FLASH CONTEST

SUMMER LIGHTNING ’22 FLASH CONTEST

SUMMER 2022 CLASSES

MICRO MENTORING: Flash Fiction Masterclass, taught by Kathryn Kulpa, July 8 — August 6, 2022

MICRO MENTORING: Flash Fiction Masterclass, taught by Kathryn Kulpa, July 8 — August 6, 2022

CLEAVER CLINICS!

Cleaver Clinics

Cleaver Clinics

Ask June!

Cleaver’s in-house advice columnist opines on matters punctuational, interpersonal, and philosophical, spinning wit and literary wisdom in response to your ethical quandaries. Write to her at today!

ASK JUNE: November 2021 Pandemic Purge and the Ungracious Griever

ASK JUNE: November 2021 Pandemic Purge and the Ungracious Griever

Dear June, Since the start of this pandemic, I have eaten more and exercised less, and have gone from a comfortable size 10 to a tight size 16. In July and early August, when the world seemed to be opening up again, I did get out and move around more, but my destinations often included bars and ice cream shops, and things only got worse. I live in a small apartment with almost no closet space. I know part of this is in my mind, but it often seems that my place is bursting at the seams with “thin clothes.”  ...
Read More...
November 18, 2021

Top Ten Today on Cleaver:

  • Issue 38 June 2022
    Issue 38 June 2022
  • IF YOU WANT TO BE LOVED, LOVE by Meg Pokrass
    IF YOU WANT TO BE LOVED, LOVE by Meg Pokrass
  • SUMMER LIGHTNING '22 FLASH CONTEST
    SUMMER LIGHTNING '22 FLASH CONTEST
  • Submit
    Submit
  • Opportunities
    Opportunities
  • Writing Workshops
    Writing Workshops
  • RETHINKING THE SHITTY FIRST DRAFT by George Dila
    RETHINKING THE SHITTY FIRST DRAFT by George Dila
  • THE UNDERCURRENT by Mariana Sabino
    THE UNDERCURRENT by Mariana Sabino
  • WINDOW SEAT, a poem by Molly McGinnis, Featured on Life As Activism
    WINDOW SEAT, a poem by Molly McGinnis, Featured on Life As Activism
  • RIDING WEST TOWARD THE WOODS by Deb Fenwick
    RIDING WEST TOWARD THE WOODS by Deb Fenwick

Issue 39 Countdown!

September 16, 2022
77 days to go.

Emily Steinbergs’s Comix

The writer, a middle-aged woman with long grey hair, is driving in car with her dog. She narrates: Since the end of February I've been watching the war on TV. CNN Breaking: "Russia Invades Ukraine. Ukraine strikes fuel depot. Putin pissed off."... And obsessively doom scrolling on Twitter. War Crimes! Odessa bombed! It simultaneously feels like 1939 and right now. Totally surreal.

WAR AND PEACE 2.0 by Emily Steinberg

THE RECKONING by Emily Steinberg

THE RECKONING by Emily Steinberg

Visual Narratives

DESPINA, a visual narrative  by Jennifer Hayden

DESPINA, a visual narrative by Jennifer Hayden

From KENNINGS, Visual Erasures by Katrina Roberts

From KENNINGS, Visual Erasures by Katrina Roberts

CURRENTLY

THIRTEEN POTSHOTS AT THE PROSE POEM, a Craft Essay by Mike James

THIRTEEN POTSHOTS AT THE PROSE POEM, a Craft Essay by Mike James
THIRTEEN POTSHOTS AT THE PROSE POEM a Craft Essay by Mike James An alien lands at a city basketball court at night. He either lands inside a science fiction story or he lands inside a ... Read More
May 24, 2022

SHADE OF BLUE TREES, poems by Kelly Cressio-Moeller reviewed by Dana Kinsey

SHADE OF BLUE TREES, poems by Kelly Cressio-Moeller reviewed by Dana Kinsey
SHADE OF BLUE TREES by Kelly Cressio-Moeller Two Sylvias Press, 79 pages reviewed by Dana Kinsey In her debut collection Shade of Blue Trees, Kelly Cressio-Moeller conducts a tremendous chorus of voices that rise in ... Read More
May 24, 2022

GROWING SEASONS: On Plants and Poetry, a craft essay by Luiza Flynn-Goodlett

GROWING SEASONS: On Plants and Poetry, a craft essay by Luiza Flynn-Goodlett
GROWING SEASONS: On Plants and Poetry A Craft Essay by Luiza Flynn-Goodlett Like most things, it began with beauty: My first apartment after college overlooked the backyard of several Crown Heights buildings, which had become ... Read More
May 18, 2022

SHOW, THEN TELL: Crafting Fiction with Alive Exposition  by Grace Evans

SHOW, THEN TELL: Crafting Fiction with Alive Exposition  by Grace Evans
SHOW, THEN TELL: Crafting Fiction with Alive Exposition  by Grace Evans While writing a first draft of a novel, I turned one scene and an economical one-paragraph description of a mother-daughter relationship into seven scenes ... Read More
May 18, 2022

MAKING EACH STORY ITS OWN: A Craft Conversation with Tony Taddei, author of THE SONS OF THE SANTORELLI, speaking with fiction editor Andrea Caswell

MAKING EACH STORY ITS OWN:  A Craft Conversation with Tony Taddei, author of THE SONS OF THE SANTORELLI, speaking with fiction editor Andrea Caswell
MAKING EACH STORY ITS OWN a Craft Conversation with Tony Taddei author of  THE SONS OF THE SANTORELLI speaking with fiction editor Andrea Caswell Tony Taddei’s debut story collection, The Sons of the Santorelli, is ... Read More
May 16, 2022

A LESSON FROM MY THIRD-GRADE SELF: On Writing from the Heart, a Craft Essay by Vivian Conan

A LESSON FROM MY THIRD-GRADE SELF: On Writing from the Heart, a Craft Essay by Vivian Conan
A LESSON FROM MY THIRD-GRADE SELF On Writing from the Heart, A Craft Essay by Vivian Conan I was fifty-two when I chanced upon the bright marigold flyer taped to a streetlight in my Manhattan ... Read More
May 6, 2022
    View more recent reviews...
Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy
♦ © Cleaver Magazine ♦ [email protected] ♦ ISSN 2330-2828 ♦ Privacy Policy
↑
 

Loading Comments...