Articles by Lisa Andrews

Lisa Andrews is a writer and web designer who has gradually dedicated more and more of her time towards publishing. She has a degree in Web and Multimedia Design from Hagerstown Community College and a BA in English with a concentration in writing from Shippensburg University. Her introduction to editing began while attending Hagerstown Community College where she restarted and ran The Hedge Apple Literary Magazine for several years while completing her web degree.


Teressa Ezell
0

In Praise of Mud by Teressa Rose Ezell

And what of this wind-whipped, soggy, savory day with its cloak of grey and its stinging drops, brown grass and bare branches, stark naked but still in glorious, dancing majesty? There is no train of hopeful, athletic feet running through the park now; just my husband, myself, and our wolfish dog, trudging. My husband’s loafers,…

0

Selfie of March as Infatuation by Lori Lamothe

Selfie of March as Infatuation Change, as always, arrives late to the party. The pines in the yard stand ringed around stasis, the tips of their branches dripping dirty rain onto snow’s faded carpet. Even the sky stands off in a corner ignoring the small talk of crows, its gray coat draped over its shoulders….

Jennifer Martelli
0

The Tao of Virgil Sollozzo by Jennifer Martelli

The Tao of Virgil Sollozzo   Look at my veiny hands. Look at the bare trees’ branches— we’re holding up the winter sky, giving it back its darkness. A pack of menthol cigarettes, a half empty bic lighter; cleaned out clam shell found on the beach by the stone calendar. In the movie, the doomed…

Jake Tringali
0

Hands of Chance by Jake Tringali

Hands of Chance form shadow puppets, shallow spirits hidden souls born skip across the evening piano, speeding allegro fleeting little song pour firewater liquors, for the tipplers morning’s remorse scar canvas with dark crayon, art seance exquisite corpse flick the card deck, bar bet conjure lost kings light his cigarette, fingers pirouette now his heart…

Jenni Baker - Author
0

It’s Cold And… by Jenni B Baker

It’s Cold And The heat’s not working. The heater’s on, but I’m still freezing. The streets are paved with gross and I’m starting to wonder if these shoes really have what it takes to go the distance.  The buildings are so high. The roads have so many potholes. The land  has technical and creative challenges….

Pink Pen and Tea
0

The Business of Words: A Workshop on Publishing

Professor Tamara Oakman, Apiary Magazine, is lecturing on how to get your work published in magazines and literary journals. Visit The Head & the Hand Press for more information.   Prof. Tamara Oakman, executive editor and co-founder of Apiary Magazine, teaches English, drama, creative and expository writing, and the humanities (film, philosophy) at several universities. She has awards for…

Taira Anderson
0

Three-Dog Night by Taira L. Anderson

Ariane steps off the bus, into the snowfall, and it’s simple: She isn’t ready for the inside hours, the claustral house, the mom’s practiced quiet and the dad’s mean breath. She takes the long way home. Snow, thick as lamb’s fleece, shimmies round her. She holds her arms out to feel the way—she believes she…

Issue 8 Cover
0

Issue 8 Editorial

It’s a new year and we all have resolutions to go with it. As writers, we hope to make time to write every day. That’s the goal, right? As a writer, your one job is to write! But then there’s the family, your day job, the cat poking at your chair, the dog needing to…

Unsplash / Rain
0

Two Poems by Rachel Peevler

Symphony Rain. An elastic halo of broken serenity hung over their helmets. Lightning and thunder symphonies roared. Little jewel notes collapsed from the gray canopy and shattered across their exposed skin like glass. They stood still and poised in the rising tempest and, turning their faces to the sky, they squinted through the rain at…

Dianne Silvestri
0

Two Poems by Dianne Silvestri

Long Winter The driveway needs no vision test— it is blind, sunk between sand-grizzled heaps of frozen snow. Vanished are roadside mailboxes once ready to shake hands. The Postal Service will temporarily deliver mail to ice chests wedged into the towering banks. In the back yard a pine bends over to vomit snow. Even nowhere…

All rights revert to our authors on publication. Please don't mess with our authors or photographers. ©Apeiron Review