The online literary journal of Greenfield Community College

Gunpowder Green with Jedediah Berry

Gunpowder Green with Jedediah Berry

            A few weeks ago, I sat in the Fresh Side in Amherst, ruminating over the tea choices. Local author and professor of creative writing at Bard College, Jedediah Berry, was meeting me there to talk about writing and his very successful novel The Manual of Detection. I am not...
Running with Dogs

Running with Dogs

    Mid November in the January Hills, hunting ends at sundown. Shotgun season for deer wouldn’t begin for another two weeks, the shortest days and darkest nights of early December. Valerie and Jim drove their mismatched, rowdy pack of dogs into the hills where only the locals hunted, where...
Dad by Wind Chimes by Dad

Dad by Wind Chimes by Dad

Like—who?—a Zennist Who is lit up by a chunk of the mundane— Shinkichi Takahashi eternally burning seeing the baby’s Turd afloat in the communal bath— I’m walking past the greyhounds’ owners’ house When a tinkling chord from their portico Boards me. I am the most stupid For one finger snap,...
Rocket City, USA

Rocket City, USA

My father, a career IBM man, was one of myriad late-1960′s NASA-related personnel contracted in the effort to beat the Russians to the moon, and a few months in “I Dream Of Jeannie”-era Cocoa Beach was just part of the drill. It remains amazing to me how antiquated, yet currently...
Still Life

Still Life

  The mother of all storms is upon us. We are taken aback, our skirts blow up. We show our panties, bad girls all of us, march off to school with our lunch boxes open. Do you want my apple? Do you want my pear? See all the fruit for...
I Love My Beard

I Love My Beard

Officer, I’ve told you exactly what happened. I’ve been here all day and, frankly, I don’t appreciate being treated like a criminal. Now, I’ve answered all your questions, filled out a report, and signed my statement. What more could you possibly want from me? Again? You want me to go...
Ode to the Crumb

Ode to the Crumb

  Speck of cheese, dot of bread, slivered hint of once pie. They stir up our hunger, send a flare down desire’s dark hole, invite us to rise up again from here. A crumb of bird humming contends, hungry, with the bee. Green-back glow and the long beak sneaks into...
GCC's Exquisite Corpse

GCC’s Exquisite Corpse

Among Surrealist techniques exploiting the mystique of accident was a kind of collective collage of words or images called the cadavre exquis (exquisite corpse). Based on an old parlor game, it was played by several people, each of whom would write a phrase on a sheet of paper, fold the...
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Hide and Seek

Hide and Seek

In those days change was law. After the day’s lawn faced the sky blue speech, Or its parade of clouds rolling like floats east, It looked up at one or two stars, Bordered by the two darkening maples and one big willow. The lawn had no eyes, but the dizzy Boy and girl, lying at...
Radioactive Girlfriend

Radioactive Girlfriend

Red hot isotope spit’n mama Baby you glow in the dark Entropic activity stirs a switch Half-life flesh ignites subliminal twitch Synaptic hormonal chain reaction Turgid particle accelerator raised for action Burning fire of unquenchable quantum desire Control rod guided deeper averts subatomic meltdown Your fission-fueled libido could light cities Radioisotope fire that burns so...
White Queen

White Queen

  If you make Your decision How am I to argue? A Mite with no knees. But I beg a plea That will go heard or unheard. The Moon gleams White And has no record for Keeping score But crosses in Her timely fashion As the Spider whirls its thread For foster flies to wed....
The Visit

The Visit

Cool air wakes her abruptly. The neck of her oversized cotton nightgown has fallen, revealing a mass on her chest that protrudes like an awkward third breast. She is hardly aware of it but for a familiar lethargy that lingers within her. She looks down at a pair of hands, liver-spotted and sagging over bone. A television...
How to Fall: An Interview with Susan Stinson

How to Fall: An Interview with Susan Stinson

Susan Stinson is the Writer in Residence at Forbes Library in Northampton, Massachusetts, and the author of Belly Songs, Fat Girl Dances with Rocks, Venus of Chalk, and Martha Moody. Her upcoming book, Spider in a Tree (Small Beer Press, Oct 2013), is historical fiction chronicling the life of Jonathan Edwards, one of the great...
The World's Greatest Salesman

The World’s Greatest Salesman

Dad was dying. I was the only one of the children without a steady job and so the obvious choice to fly down to Florida and navigate him through to the end. The morning after I arrived at his condo, he entered the hospital for the last time. There were going to be more X-rays...
Apologies

Apologies

  “Apologies” was a collaborative project that invited people to send us poems, stories, paragraphs or whatever that told the story of a wrong-doing of which the author was not really sorry for.  Below are the five pieces we received. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I lied on this invitation. And I’m glad I did it. I’d do it...
The Small House on the Street

The Small House on the Street

There was a time in Greenwich when people kept a car for more than a year and could look at their house and say, “Maybe this is enough.” When my grandparents, Jean and Dean Barker, moved to Greenwich in 1968, it was actually a pretty ordinary town. They bought a house with half an acre...
Always, The Old House

Always, The Old House

  My grandmother shows me my first yellow rose, pale – called Moonlight Glow – which she tends by the stone wall beyond the old, old house. I shut tight my eyes to see us both in the afternoon light. There’s a tale of Bereft in that house which doesn’t yet speak of Grandpa naked...
Swans' The Seer

Swans’ The Seer

Recently, while browsing through new albums on a website of music reviews, I came across a void of black from which some sort of Wookie/bobcat crossbreed was grinning at me. It had dirty, human teeth and was missing its eyeballs. Creepy, I thought. The album cover had no text, but below the painting was some...
The Cold Miles

The Cold Miles

  He is reaching around her – claw foot tub, oceanography. I could say islands, but instead – weigh stations, always this or that, always weather. She is wondering what it might be like to take a class at the University, what might have been the ending to the movie she fell asleep to the...
Short Stacks

Short Stacks

  [OLD MAN, SON I and SON II are gathered in a kitchen, which is sparsely decorated and drab. In the middle of the room is a small kitchen table with three chairs, and in the corner, a grey refrigerator and a white stove. There is one window over the sink with a drab curtain...