Refractions
-2020-
The Collective
Stories and Propagation of
Showcased Writers, Artists & Photographers
The Collective
Stories and Propagation of
Showcased Writers, Artists & Photographers
Tavarus Blackmon
Genre: Art June 22nd, 2020 |
Play Suite |
Kathleen Frank
Genre: Art June 19th, 2020 |
In the Mountains |
Sarah Kohrs
Genre: Photography June 15th, 2020 |
Forest Bathing |
Zarnab Tufail
Genre: Photography June 12th, 2020 |
Individuality |
Jessica Costello
Genre: Poetry June 8th, 2020 |
All You'll (Never) KnowI can’t tell you (why) I’m writing (this)
It’s (too much) to keep (a conversation) going |
Kevin Taylor
Genre: Poetry June 5th, 2020 |
ReminderSomewhere in the days between
I left my trike in rusty scenes Traded life for lesser stuff Left the trike and kept the rust |
James B. Nicola
Genre: Poetry May 18th, 2020 |
One Thing We Might Do About ItLet's all take Trayvon as a middle name.
Then there would not be one Trayvon less in the world, but many more. Let's do the same |
Jerome Berglund
Genre: Photography May 15th, 2020 |
Photos from Driving in the Rain |
Erin Jamieson
Genre: May 11th, 2020 |
A Love StoryMama and Papa married late: he was nearly thirty five, she thirty six. It was late for that generation, at least, and all of Mama’s relatives warned her she shouldn’t try to have kids. Too tough on her body. Developmental disabilities.
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David Anthony Sam
Genre: Poetry May 8th, 2020 |
Unknown AlternateUnknown earth, unknown alternate,
place of another's eyesight, unknown planet of another's path where the same things don't happen and the same faces try on new masks. |
Haolun Xu
Genre: Poetry May 4th, 2020 |
AshlandThis is Ashland. The poor seldom do
We speak upon the shadows, When the sun rises, the morning laughs And we crawl across the dew. |
Karyna Aslanova
Genre: Photography May 1st, 2020 |
C-H-A-N-G-E-SIn this project, I investigated the versatility of changes in both literal and figurative senses. These changes were explored with both the subject matter and the technical aspects of the photographs, from it is a person’s physical aging to manipulations with light and shadow.
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Charles Spring
Genre: Prose Poetry April 24th, 2020 |
Making Out in the Theatre After School Pull my hair and call me bitch.
|
Tammy Smith
Genre: Micro Nonfiction April 20th, 2020 |
Stages of ChangeHowling like a deranged wolf, she refuses to speak. Won't fill out any of the forms we try
to give her. Is she addicted to suffering? |
Tunisia Nelson
Genre: Poetry April 17th, 2020 |
Working on MeI thought I was ready to face my biggest opponent yet
Me. I walked into that room full of fervor knowing that there is nothing that anyone can tell me about me. I have done it all, lived this life, hurt, abused, molested, pain But I have made it right I went to school I got a degree... |
Guilherme Bergamini
Genre: Photography April 13th, 2020 |
Walking & Flying |
Gregory Stephens
Genre: Nonfiction April 11th, 2020 |
Still Life in MotionHurricane Maria cast us into darkness. The day after, we picked our way through broken trees, mangled electric lines, and mud. We had no electricity, water, or outside communication. Everyone was trying to dig out. Everyday life became a struggle. When it rained, we caught enough runoff to take “cowboys.” But food and fuel were problems. Waits of up to 11 hours for gasoline recalled scenes from Mad Max. Thieves drilled holes in gas tanks and stole generators from the water company and cell towers. There were long lines at bank ATMs, grocery stores, and Western Union.
|
David Capps
Genre: Poetry March 16th, 2020 |
HomeYou will remember the earth
folding under so many leaves like faces of indistinguishable consciences merging with the dead, mulch in a pit of bare iron that had been there for as long as we knew-- |
Becca Rae Rose
Genre: Poetry March 16th, 2020 |
SilvicultureIn April all the pinecones fall. If you hear a rattle,
run. Prepare for fire season. Like a snake’s instrument inside its husk, a stay clear shake as it bounces from branch to branch, then crunch—velocity’s ability to weight the lightest body. |
Becca Rae Rose
Genre: Poetry March 9th, 2020 |
SerotinousDrive safe watch for deer texts my mother
every time I key ignition or stomp to pedal. This is about a place: this is what a mother says when the running joke is if you haven’t hit a deer yet. |
Angela Mackintosh
Genre: Nonfiction March 9th, 2020 |
Fullerton GirlsFullerton was the birthplace of the electric guitar and Fender, but when we were sick of the house parties or playing pool at Susan’s after hours, we drove forty miles to Los Angeles when no other kids from Sunny Hills dared. In the 80s, the Sunset Strip was packed with rockers we called hessians in tight leather pants and big hair passing out flyers to gigs.
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Kristina Crane
Genre: Prose March 2nd, 2020 |
My Family HistoryMy family history rots in a broken down orange VW bus in the Nevada desert, filled from floorboards to roof with rats nesting in family secrets. Maps lined the windows until all the roads sun-bleached away.
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Bibiana Ossai
Genre: Poetry March 2nd, 2020 |
White Ricei remember the thick steam that rose from the white rice
when mama opened the big stainless pot to dish out food on the early morning of my sister’s birthday celebration |
Kathryn Sadakierski
Genre: Poetry February 24th, 2020 |
AthenaeumAthenaeum
Books, lined on shelves Like pastries in a bakery case, Baubles in a treasure chest. |
Charles Spring
Genre: Poetry February 24th, 2020 |
you wake downwithout body. you stumble through the abandoned house your
parents do not fight in anymore since they decided you were what’s souring their marriage. nudity ensues. no work, no school, no plans; you get to breathe today. but you are |
Cal Freeman
Genre: Nonfiction February 17th, 2020 |
Orbital TheoryShe told me the boy was coming home, from Pittsburgh of all places, and it wasn’t that I’d forgotten that the boy had moved there, but that boys are always coming home according to classical and biblical precedent (Telemachus, The Prodigal Son), a boy is always staying or coming home or temporarily leaving home in the fashion of the lengthy return.
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Bob Chikos
Genre: Nonfiction February 17th, 2020 |
The NeighborsAfter Aileen and I married, we bought a tiny condo on the third floor of an aging building – the only thing we could afford on our non-profit and childcare salaries. During the 13 years we – and eventually our baby – were there, the apartment across the hall hosted a carousel of neighbors: the immigrants from Poland who left when the wife became homesick, the young couple who moved away as soon as they could afford a house, the man who kept to himself, then disappeared one night, leaving a steady stream of creditors knocking on our door asking if we knew what happened to him.
And then there was Josh. |
Cheryl Ferguson Bernini
Genre: Fiction February 10th, 2020 |
The House on Hickory HillAs the children grew to adulthood, they withdrew from my walls and the security I afforded them from when they were first introduced to me. The couple eventually aged to when they became no more. I live on, but I have become lifeless. There is no one that inhabits me now.
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Alissa Hull
Genre: Poetry February 1st, 2020 |
Home TownI take sleeping pills, drown you out, and lie about where I’m from. |
Jerome Berglund
Genre: Photography February 1st, 2020 |
Home I - III |
Danielle O'Hanlon
Genre: Art Februrary 1st, 2020 |
Warm Winter |