The Literary Journal of the Stonecoast MFA
Stonecoast Review The Literary Journal of the Stonecoast MFA Trophy Poetry By Charles Carter My first landlord had jowls like an old Walter Matthau and walls covered in exotic animal carcasses. I’m getting married and want to add my spouse to the lease. Well. All right, he…
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. …
FICTION By Erin Jourdan Ksjhe was trying to sleep but the smoke from the fires was everywhere. He went to his computer and tried to appease it by typing fire, fire fire fire fire fire fire fire fire into the box. I see you. I…
POETRY By Tatiana Retivov There is a country where my voice must hold its daily reckoning and question this allegiance to the spirit of the crossroads who has scattered what remains too horrible for language and placed a skull over a stump to guard his wretched boundaries. I…
CREATIVE NONFICTION by Rina Palumbo I see myself walking on hard-packed snow, from the fields and towards the river. It is overcast and just before sunset, only shades of grey above and white below. I see myself walking in a black coat with the hood…