Winter 2008

I am not a runner. Still, as an adolescent I was gripped with the urge to run every winter at night, from my parents’ house on Summit and up Third, stopping to pause on the sidewalk across the street from the huge front window of Walter’s Flowers, brilliantly lit from inside. Though the sight of roses, gladiolas, tulips, and carnations was stirring, I was not really looking. I was listening. Listening to something that was behind me in the dark. I can only describe it as a voice. The voice of winter. The voice of myself. I ran not for exercise or for visions blooming in glass. I ran to dare the darkness of winter and to stop and hear that voice, echoing the blood pulsing in my body.

So, in accordance, we offer you voice. In this issue of Pisgah Review, all fiction, creative nonfiction, and poetry is distinctive in the voices of characters and speakers. We are happy to bring you a longer issue than before to keep you company as you snuggle under covers or sit in front of your fireplace, keeping warm as you watch the snow. Once again I want to express my thanks to Sarah Carlson, our fearless managing editor, and the members of the editorial board who took on the task of initial reads for a number of manuscripts. Special kudos go out to Susan Snowden, our gracious copy editor, and to my terrific coeditor and designer, Lonnie Busch, who makes us look good. Finally, I want to express my appreciation to Brevard College for giving Pisgah a home and its staff encouragement.

So here it is, faithful readers, issue 4. “We sound our barbaric Yawp over the rooftops of the world,” and bring you voices, visions, and warmth to keep you company through the long jog of winter.