http://www.pisgahreview.com Accepting fiction, poetry & creative nonfiction Wed, 12 May 2010 15:14:49 +0000 http://backend.userland.com/rss092 en A great moment of pleasure for the editor of a literary journal is when a piece by a well-known and established writer rises from the depths of the stacks. On first read, the editor is thrilled with the author’s story or poem, engaged with his language, and edified by her ... http://www.pisgahreview.com/?p=65 Growing up in Gunnison, Colorado, I was addicted to the college radio station out of Western State College. It was years before I understood that my love for college radio was due to its eclectic nature. Where else could you tune in and get Billy Idol, followed by Waylon Jennings, ... http://www.pisgahreview.com/?p=64 I was once told that Dylan Thomas said if a person can survive childhood and youth, that same person would have all the material needed to fill a lifetime of writing. Much of Thomas’s most famous work centers around childhood, invokes young narrators, and shows characters affected by youth. And so ... http://www.pisgahreview.com/?p=63 The terror of Breakwater ended in May of 1893. Jep Cieley and Sheriff Flannerly arrested Jericho Riley, which surprised everyone. For three long years we were not allowed to play outside after dusk. We all knew the stories about Mr. Dark, so we had named him, and his skulking around ... http://www.pisgahreview.com/?p=55 Some days, before she was fully awake, Hallie forgot she was eighty-three. On those mornings, when a warm finger of sun angled across her face from between the blinds, she thought she was in her thirties again. She felt it so strongly that she was on her feet, wondering what ... http://www.pisgahreview.com/?p=54 Jimmy Clemmons can charm your wife on the phone. He’ll say something like this: “Don’t be afraid of a little mouse. Maybe he just wants to make you a pretty dress, like in Cinderella.” Your wife will like the flattery, she will laugh; she will think Jimmy Clemmons is funny ... http://www.pisgahreview.com/?p=53 Shakira, you’re wrong, my hips do lie. I hear your wicked song on this fairy tale dance floor, alcohol pixie dust swirling and I lie to this man, his fingertips telegraphing a blurry desire in the uncharted space between our bodies. I don’t speak Spanish but understand bailamos, the tambourine need for movement against flesh. Shakira, my hips aren’t perfect but the ... http://www.pisgahreview.com/?p=52 A bridge collapses beneath your car but our coiffured hair and capped teeth assuage the Omega Chi who rushes back to his burning fraternity house to save an elderly couple knocked from their shoes by a white barge that drifts into bridge piers with a thousand tons of Christmas presents scatter when the first shots are brought ... http://www.pisgahreview.com/?p=51 There is a long gravel drive that leads to my mailbox. I have spent many afternoons during the dog days of summer carrying sacks of correspondence up the drive for the mailman. Hundreds of #10 envelopes have been sent back to their owners, all with kind thoughts to our submitters, ... http://www.pisgahreview.com/?p=50 (excerpt) I am sprawled in the back of my grandparents’ 1972 brown Nova. My grandfather rides in front, teaching my brother to drive. My brother is nine, and I can’t even see his head over the seat. “Now ease up on the gas when you get to the top of the hill,” ... http://www.pisgahreview.com/?p=49