Stonecoast Review is proud to publish the works of many tal­ent­ed pho­tog­ra­phers, illus­tra­tors, and visual artists of every kind. Here are the pieces that made Stonecoast Review Issue 18…   Spider Dance, by Sarah-Jane Crowson Out-Reach, by Larena Nellies-Ortiz Sisters, by Terry Brinkman agents against…

GENRE FICTION By Robert E. Stutts “How like a winter hath my absence been / From thee…” ~William Shake­speare, Sonnet 97 She will be gone. The world is white this time of year, every moment of space filled up with cold and want and waiting. In this…

DRAMATIC WORK By Emma Watkins   A man stands among several play­sets. A play kitchen. A play school. A play vet­eri­nar­i­an. A play pizze­ria and food deliv­ery stand. None of them come above his waist.    ARTHUR: I make little worlds. I’m less inter­est­ed in big ones.…

DRAMATIC WORK By Gregory Von Dare A ten-minute sci-fi comedy about serious stuff.   CAST: TODD: A nerdy guy in his mid-30s. Average height and build. Kind of an annoy­ing voice. GINNY:  She is ath­let­ic and moves with the fluid grace of a dancer. Early 20s. Excited…

POETRY By Neil Flatman  Late sun longing through the knuck­les of the black­thorns by the pond; a lan­guorous spark. The copper heads of ferns bow down with what remain­ing dignity they hold. Autumn’s flown; longer days dis­solved fast as a winter breath. Surely that’s the memory,…

POETRY By Gary English Juarez tethers me like a balero with a bridge instead of string. I tread Stanton’s crammed path over the near-water­­less Rio Grande. I could have walked its dehy­drat­ed bed. Tanned leather’s weath­ered smell infuses the mercado’s air. Piñatas, penuche. Day of the Dead disguises,…

POETRY By Moham­mad Razai Ren­dezvous (I) Last night in my dream you smiled in a way that meant more than friend­ship, so I am check­ing if that’s what you mean. We fre­quent that lamp-lit cobbled street, slalom­ing in some misty labyrinth so hazy I’m waiting for…

POETRY By Kim­ber­ly Ann Priest “Paula, my watch is gone.” GREGORY in Gaslight, 1944 It’s this way: after doing several loads of laundry, or dusting every inch of slight surface in a home’s several rooms, that you start to lose track of one thing or another—…

POETRY By Michelle Parker Randall You tell me I’ve given you some­thing impos­si­ble. You shake your head to the rhythm of my voice pealing you are safe, safe; you hold out your hands, wrists togeth­er, for hand­cuffs only you can see. Our son visited today, but…

POETRY By Heikki Huotari if aurora bore­alis­es are any indi­ca­tion the extrater­res­tri­als are at peace and the def­i­n­i­tion of life is accord­ing­ly revised      the random acts and I are inde­pen­dent and iden­ti­cal­ly dis­trib­uted so sing it side­ways what’s a wan­der­ing eye or appendage to do …