• NWWQ ~ JULY 2023

    NWWQ sub­mis­sions are closed. We will accept sub­mis­sions again October 1–14, 2023. You will find below almost two dozen intrigu­ing works –more

  • Jeff Chon ~ Recess

    Mr. Kim takes atten­dance as the kids work on their warm-up: list­ing items for their sur­vival back­packs. The all-fac­ul­ty email had sug­gest­ed col­or­ing sheets as a calm­ing mea­sure, but Mr. Kim had want­ed it to feel like a nor­mal –more

  • Gordon Kippola ~ Five Poems

    Empty Bucket List

    I heard a voice I nev­er saw.
    “You’ve only got six months to go, so live.”
    While walk­ing on a trash-strewn beach,
    regret­ting those squan­dered years,
    I built an urgent men­tal spreadsheet.

    I liq­ui­dat­ed all my wealth, applied
    for twen­ty-sev­en –more

  • Six Poems ~ Wally Swist

    Saturday Afternoon, Ansonia

    Sixty years ago this winter
    I am still eight years old, grieving
    the death of my mother.

    The mêlée of children
    teem­ing around me could be
    a tableau from a paint­ing by Brueghel.

    We are await­ing our turns
    on a tobog­gan run in the open field
    across –more

  • John Holman ~ Flocked

    They’d been going out for six months but this was their first trip out of town as a cou­ple, using a week­end of win­ter break to browse Greenville, two hours and change from where they taught col­lege in Atlanta.   Back in –more

  • Julie Benesh ~ Neologistics

    There must be a word
    for it: wak­ing up in the
    night iden­ti­fy­ing a bounded,
    dis­crete, yet repeated
    phe­nom­e­non, so profound
    and obvi­ous you don’t need
    to write it down, but yell
    it loud in your head
    so –more

  • Margo Rife ~ The Other Killer

    A bell jin­gled as the door of Snackville Junction opened. The café sign with a fat chef hold­ing a spoon blinked on. A man came in and sat at the counter.

    Little late for lunch, Mister,” said the waitress.

    A pass­ing freight train with pig­gy­back –more

  • Pam Avoledo ~ The Missing Violins

    The vio­lins were miss­ing some­where with­in the mir­ror. The strings curl around the elas­tic of  my partner’s shoes as he lifts me up. It braids through the soft pink rib­bons and snaps as it approach­es my ankle. Still I count one, two, three, four, –more

  • Jim Ross ~ The Monastery

    Summer 1971, I lived with six women from Trinity College, DC.  The only male house­mate, I sort of slipped in and stayed. Previously, this Harvard Street res­i­dence had been the tran­sient house of the Radical Lesbians four doors up. Once, while I was –more

  • Pavle Radonic ~ These I Commend To Thee

    The First

    The drunk­en old street-wreck had been tread­ing on exceed­ing­ly thin ice late­ly. (Not such a stretch on this por­tion of the equa­tor in fact, where there were numer­ous rinks and sculp­tur­al fan­tasias of var­i­ous kinds.) Emboldened recent­ly, the –more

  • Tom Williams ~ Third Verse, Different from the First

    The music I love is by dead peo­ple,” my father says.

    We’re head­ed to Mom’s in his truck, but he’s on a dif­fer­ent trip.

    Dee Dee, Joey, Johnny, Tommy. All gone.” He turns up the vol­ume over the blast of the heater, and I eye the screen –more

  • Kathleen Hellen ~ 3 Poems


    I liked them almost green, she pre­ferred them soft.
    You might be think­ing that I’m speak­ing of
    the way we slurred our men, but when
    I fucked up, when she thought I might become
    three scoops of haz­ard drenched with nuts,

  • Phebe Jewell ~ By Any Other Name

    First day on the job and the only work shirt that fits Mohammad has “Bob” embroi­dered above his heart. Buttoning up the dark blue oxford, Mohammad jokes about how easy it is to spell. His first cus­tomer, a tiny old woman need­ing new wind­shield –more

  • Daniel David Froid ~ Vermin

    Fred had a pas­sion for vermin—to put it inac­cu­rate­ly. In fact, he had a pas­sion for their exter­mi­na­tion, for nov­el meth­ods of effect­ing their cap­ture and destruc­tion. He had a pas­sion, too, for obses­sive obser­va­tion of his traps; he need­ed to bear –more

  • David P. Kozinski ~ Four Poems

    How It Started and Where It Went

    Clouds limped up the mar­ble steps of the sky
    over Tower Road by the cemetery,
    its gray slabs stick­ing out, snaggle-toothed,
    from the soft gums of earth
    that morn­ing you showed me the note
    left on your wind­shield, vague­ly –more

  • Tiffany Troy ~ Poems


    Mama, I don’t pick fights with anyone
    but if my telos as Master’s dis­ci­ple is to be a megaphone
    for oth­ers, don’t you won­der what happens
    if when I speak all I hear are echoes?

    In high school, run­ning all the way to Chambers
    I laughed –more

  • James Kangas ~ 3 Pieces

    One Afternoon

    The sky chose to wear blue and the dog put on her boots and we  went out walk­ing. She sniffed the ground for scat as the sweet scent of lilacs waft­ed into her nos­trils and mine. We walked down to the riv­er run­ning through the park. As geese pad­dled –more

  • Michael Mark ~ Poems

    Horse with No Name

    He’s been on my back for three days. You’d think a shrunk
    104 pounder wouldn’t be so heavy. But the Nevada desert
    is bru­tal even in March and he wants to hit the Strip — should
    be fun, an hon­or but he keeps steer­ing me off the –more

  • Vincent Barry ~ That “Nimrod”

    .… MEDCAT. The Bar. Driver’s license knowl­edge test. Jeez! It’s like prep­ping for an exam. But can you prep for death with twen­ty par­lor game ques­tions? … Twenty Questions. You remem­ber— oh, of course not. Well before your time. –more

  • Myna Chang ~ Daily Special

    Not much to see in Tascadora, Texas. Rough strip of road, two liquor stores, three church­es. The Happy Harvest Grocery, its park­ing lot smooth as buttercream.

    Tessa holes-up in her mini­van next to the cart return cage. Red vel­vet is the cake of the –more