The WriteAngles Journal

By Roxanne E. Bogart I step outside to find the color of my day beyond yellow or red or blue science matters but it’s not the end game for it’s the heart and gut that throb us into action and that’s when I sense what has been calling— wild voices beyond power: aspen leaves hushing […]

By Carlo Morrissey I know little about my father A man who remained as strong as the steel He molded in furnaces whose heat rivaled hell Who could drink all day, party all night A man’s man who grew up fast Leaving home not more than a boy For conservation camps clearing Vermont forests Boxing

By Anita Pappas-Raposa The day I began to sort out and discard Andy’s notes was a heartstopper. into the basement I went, recycling bin in hand and began to sift through drawers, years of yellow legal pads, large, lined index cards, typed manuscripts, journals and bound essays. They were undisturbed, handwritten years of research all

By Sue Dutch Over the summer, Mr. Miller gave our 9th grade class an assignment; collect at least 50 different types of insects, then mount each insect with a pin displaying them in a homemade case. The Latin name should appear, typed and mounted, under each insect. The due date was the end of October. 

By Vati Sreiberg, The woman is greeted by silence where there should be song, stillness where there is always movement, allowing her imagination to generate dread. She walks cautiously into her garden, the green tips of daffodils everywhere testing the air as the shadows of winter dissipate and the last of the icy snow melts away;

In five easy steps! Just as long as you focus. Whether you’re looking for comfort food, or want an easy meal after a long day, this dish is right for you. In my family, it’s been passed down for at least five generations. This classic American recipe is one that every mom, single parent, or

By D.K. McCutchen Dear George was as smart in his field as he was clueless about people. But he’d been told he was Brilliant! He was a Chemical Engineer who’d become obsessed with a common bacterium, Comamonas testosteroni, a bacteria as knuckleheaded-sounding as George. George just knew C. testosteroni could become nature’s little plastic recycling

By Carla Manene Cooke I am from northeastern woods from leafy shade in summer stark gray bark in winter I am from skunk cabbage first green in vernal lowlands I am from spring ephemerals bloodroot and wild ginger trillium and Jack-in-the-pulpit I am from swamp-spawned mosquitoes that swarm in clouds around my head—must keep pace

By Stephanie Shafran   Stephanie ShafranAn active member of Straw Dog Writers Guild and Florence Poetry Society, Stephanie resides in Northampton, Massachusetts. She published a chapbook titled Awakening in 2020; more at stephanieshafran.com, including monthly blog posts.  

By Steve Bernstein    It took one year to write my manuscript, “Stories from the Stoop.” Next step: get an agent. Should be a cinch, I thought.    I got myself to a writer’s conference and signed up for fifteen minutes to pitch my book to an agent. A week before the conference, I sent