Time and again in Volume 26, Issue 3 of Cider Press Review, we are confronted with the divine interwoven with the ordinary. In Katharyn
Somehow the fireflies still emerged that summer, still hovered and would alight, gently curious, on his outstretched hands—they felt soft as a tiny purr,
I woke up today the age of my childhood friend’s dad when he was mid-divorce, buying a speedboat and making crazy money in the
When rot is found inside the softness of someone I love, I only think of making trades. As if cancer must exist somewhere,