Thrilled to nominate these six pieces for the Pushcart Prize! Read these fabulous pieces at blackbird.vcu.edu🐦‍⬛ @kristinagarvin.bsky.social @poloniuma.bsky.social @halfmoonmocha.bsky.social

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There were dead birds washed up near the lighthouse I visited today. They looked vulnerable and poignant, no different in their way from a shipwreck victim from a century ago. The bodies fragile and too harshly treated by the light, but also beautiful and somehow remembered by wave and wind and rock

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SO MUCH packed into a teeny tiny space

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I haven’t read from Appleseed in a while, so I’m practicing for tonight. I always read the same three passages. Five years out, they’re all I know of the book. Because it’s a new copy, I had to rebuild my notes on where to stop—and realized I don’t recognize any prose after that mark. At all.

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This is how you become a writer: just pick one of the things that is deeply wrong with you. Make it a character. Now send it on a self-help journey or try to kill it. Now call it a book.

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