HERE/YOU ARE

All I Know of Coal

By SAVANNAH SIPPLE | 07 SEP 2017

By Viviane Sassen — reaching you. courtesy of brian hefele

This is what happens when you cut the world in two: it turns
on you. We all die: cancer, copper water, money, meth,
oxy, percocets, loss: a job or love, too much or too little
Jesus, mountain blasting zones: where we blow
ourselves apart.

Savannah Sipple is a writer originally from east Kentucky. Her poems and short stories have recently been published in The Louisville Review and Still: The Journal, and in the anthologies Appalachia Now: Short Stories of Contemporary Appalachia (Bottom Dog Press, 2015) and in If You Can Hear This: Poems in Protest of an American Inauguration, (Sibling Rivalry Press, 2017). Savannah is also the co-owner of Brier Books, Lexington, Kentucky's newest independent bookseller. She is a 2017 recipient of a grant from the Barbara Deming Memorial Fund/Money for Women, Inc.

HERE/YOU ARE

The Islands

By SU-YEE LIN

“When we first arrived, the ocean was a scene from a movie...”

HERE/YOU ARE

(another) Ithaca

By ANDRéE GREENE

“We are all running out of time, and running out of a place.”

HERE/YOU ARE

Start

By SHAYLA LAWSON

“the name of how music plays / often means what it is: A record — a witness; a cassette”