Erin Cantrell-Martinez is a creative gender non-conforming multi spiritual mother (to human, fur and plant children) of the African Diaspora in the American South, working in the intersection of art, wellness, nature, dream tending and gardening. Continue reading Hybrid No. 3 – Erin Alexandria
WINNERS
Morgan Christie – People Without Wings (fiction) and Rachelle Parker – Together We Remember the Gazelle (poetry)
Continue reading 2022 Digging Press Chapbook Results
She is born knowing how to swim. Her first few days of life, she spends suspended in the plankton with all the other drifters, larval fishes, jellyfishes, just-hatched cephalopods, copepods, diatoms, microscopic flora, plastic nurdles following the ocean’s whims. Continue reading Hybrid No. 2 – Mandy-Suzanne Wong
A stranger called and I picked up my phone.
“Hello, how are you doing today?” said the voice from the other end. The voice belonged to a woman, an older woman. It was deep and luxurious, a perfect balance of grace and authority. Just from that simple hello, I could hear the weight of experience, a lifetime of training in forming the perfect first impression.
Before I met you, we went to the same party, but I don’t remember seeing you there. I like to pretend I was strangely compelled by the sight of you staggering around in a threadbare coat and loosened tie, your lips red from the bottle of wine you clutched, its green neck peeking halfway out of a paper bag. Continue reading Flash No. 26 – Jannitt Ark
A car’s life can be hard to imagine, but maybe not so difficult when the automobile comes back home one last time. Like most objects in the physical universe we occupy, it’s not hard to see when a car is going to wear out. Continue reading Flash No. 25 – Jason Arment
There once was a girl who lived in a little house in a pine wood. The pines were tall and thick with needles, and above them was a clear deep blue sky with large white clouds in it, solid-seeming white clouds that moved swiftly on a brisk wind, like boats on their way to some place or another. Continue reading Flash No. 24 – Lúa Margita Brau
Lena was raised on violin lessons and minimal parental supervision. Maestro Ludwig, her first violin teacher, was spiritually her only family. After early morning lessons, before she went off to school, they liked to relax together on the cool sheets of his unmade bed in his private studio in the Hyatt Regency, her violin lying between them. They smelled plumeria and coconut-scented sunscreen lotion from Kaanapali Beach through the one open window. Continue reading Stories No. 89 – Jeanne Althouse
I cannot rehearse the pathways of smoke, but I spend my entire life on the journey, my one particular part, small, wingless, and flattened. You would not guess it when meeting me alone and my host can be nearly gone, emaciated. I place my eggs upon her hair. But there’s a second host and more further south. I could migrate and release my benefactor. I could trade in my habitat. But in this way deceptive birds might find me sailing. Continue reading Flash No. 23 – Rich Ives
They offered me a job at the clinic near my house, and I took It because I had to keep up with rent while mami visited home country to nurse her mama for three months. I did not mind that It was a graveyard shift since the place was just a few bus stops away. My task was to receive packages and log their arrival in a binder. The delivery men wore khaki overalls and never spoke. As of now, those are the facts I can recall. Continue reading Stories No. 88 – Elinol López
Sticky post
Penn State University would periodically send down these studies on dairy cows. The farmers would have to implement them whether they liked it or not, but it was always the cause of ridicule, of mockery, that the scientists at Penn State hadn’t gotten close to the udders of a single cow, had never been kicked by one, never saw the mastitis their directives were meant to clear up,… Continue reading Flash No. 22 – Richard Krause
You go to flip the omelet over, and it breaks. Ever so gently a turn, like you always do, and it still breaks. The innards are exposed. The eggs will continue to harden and soon burn. Continue reading Flash No. 21 – Josh Dale
The author confesses that this story has been written entirely by mistake. It begins with the mistake of an alarm clock opening and keeps piling them on: a stereotypical main character, a two-dimensional significant other, an unconvincing villain. Continue reading Flash No. 20 – KP Vogell
In a brothel outside of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, an English archaeologist finds a clay tablet with Latin writings. After careful study, historians believe it is the reproduction of a letter written by John the Apostle. Continue reading Flash No. 19 – JP Infante
Read the Medication Guide that comes with AMBIEN before you begin taking the pill, or unless you can’t sleep. Which is ironic. Continue reading Flash No. 18 – Denise Tolan
I am folding my mom’s fancy clothes. Bright patterned dresses and diaphanous floral blouses from Bloomingdale’s. Bespoke wool pants, now impossibly baggy, from a shop on Madison. All the finery she once wore to Broadway plays and opera at the Met, to museums and lunches at upscale Manhattan restaurants. Continue reading Flash No. 17 – Sue Mell
You are no earth-bound love
Spoke the girl to the God of the Sun. Continue reading Hybrid No. 1 – Emma Eisler
Winner Submersion by Marie Baléo Continue reading 2021 Digging Press Chapbook Results
Winner: Every First & Fifteenth by Dimitri Reyes Continue reading Spring 2020 Digging Press Chapbook Results
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