Michigan

Seasonal Attention

Under the Madison Street bridge, the tree that grows sideways suddenly popped flowers that smelled like corn tortillas.

I am from this place as much as I am from anywhere, and it’s this recognition that helps me know that I can feel this way again.

by Jon Gorter | Jun 28, 2020 | 4 comments

I don’t often think about my breath.

There are no miscalculations or extraneous details—things are only borrowed or loaned between neighbors.

Meaning, it turns out, doesn’t always accompany mortality.

I care a lot about things like that. I want people to remember good things about me.

But I will say that—for me—being confined to my home has sometimes felt liberating in a small and quiet way.

by Abby Zwart | Apr 12, 2020 | 2 comments

The next morning she was clutching the screen door with her dainty insect toes.

by Brad Zwiers | Mar 27, 2020 | 1 comment

No one has any idea what to do, and we’re all trying to use what we’ve got to make things work.

When confronted with a dozen or so unexpected snails, one faces questions of moral principle one never thought one would.