CREATIVE NONFICTION By Jocelyn Heath My father calls to tell me that he has to give up swim­ming. His shoul­ders started aching awhile back, but he went on swim­ming until the pain buried itself so deep in his joints, espe­cial­ly at night, that he went…

Sub­mis­sions for Stonecoast Review Issue 19 are now OPEN. Send us your lit­er­ary fiction, genre fiction, cre­ative non­fic­tion, poetry, visual art, dra­mat­ic works, and exper­i­men­tal works. Read our full guide­lines here for specifics. Pre­vi­ous issues of Stonecoast Review are just as impor­tant as the guidelines.…

Stonecoast Review will be opening to sub­mis­sions on Feb­ru­ary 5th. Sub­mis­sions will close on April 5th. Reading our guide­lines is an excel­lent way for poten­tial sub­mit­ters to under­stand the essen­tials of what we’re looking for and how to send us your work. We pride our­selves on…

Stonecoast Review, Issue 18 is now avail­able for pur­chase from local book­seller Kelly’s Books to Go. Support inde­pen­dent and inclu­sive pub­lish­ing today by order­ing a copy here. To our readers, here is a brief note from Stonecoast Review Issue 18 editor Caite McNeil that appears…

POETRY By Jillian Hanson When you can do nothing what can you do? —Zen Koan   i. Sit in the nothing. Talk to nothing. Do nothing. See what nothing offers, prob­a­bly nothing. Offer nothing some­thing, since you are not nothing. Offer nothing your whole pres­ence, the…

Stonecoast Review The Lit­er­ary Journal of the Stonecoast MFA at the Uni­ver­si­ty of South­ern Maine War Birds Fiction By Jen­nifer Lee GI Joe 1945  The trucks parade down Con­sti­tu­tion Avenue. I have prac­ticed the steely glint in my eye, holding my beak par­al­lel to the horizon…

POETRY By Thomas Osatchoff I had a dream that I asked Duterte what fruit and veg­etable pickers will do after their jobs become auto­mat­ed. He said they will be rock pickers. I said, but can’t rock picking also be auto­mat­ed? He said yes, but every­one needs…

POETRY By Ife­oluwa Ayan­dele I know a door that leads to some­where in the dark and walking right through  the door is like walking through a house   filled with the void of a ghost. I am outside  my own body & my grief grows like…

CREATIVE NONFICTION By David Blis­tein In the fall of 1965, my family moved into a small, gray-shin­­gled house in Prov­i­dence, Rhode Island, whose main dis­tin­guish­ing feature was a bright yellow front door. It was in a mixed neigh­bor­hood, which—in the 1960s, in that part of…

POETRY By Linda Michel-Cassidy Recla­ma­tion   A whale appears in the bay ahead of sched­ule and far from the Pacific.   Because we ache  for wonder these days, we think this a good sign,   an omen of a new begin­ning or some such non­sense, despite her showing ribs. …