• NWWQ — October 2022

    NWWQ invites sub­mis­sions in the first two weeks of Jan, April, July and October and pub­lish­es in those same months.

    Many thanks to all who sub­mit­ted to the October issue.

  • Claire Hopple ~ Keep it Together

    We watch some­thing burn until we notice it’s our apart­ment. It’s where we’ve been liv­ing for the past few hours. Fortunately that means most of our stuff is still boxed up in the truck. No skin off our backs. We’re out on the sidewalk.

    –more

  • Ryan Griffith ~ 24 Hour Elevator

    To break down is what we’re designed for. Lungs, lan­guage, ele­va­tors. A per­son can only climb sev­en floors before they grow old, before extinc­tion, and it’s me they call. Shaman, doc­tor, repair man. An ele­va­tor is a machine –more

  • Carrie Bartsch ~ Bird Dog

    Randall Morgan pre­ferred to sit in the back row, whether it be
    in air­planes, cars, even the mega-whop­per-dare­dev­il roller coast­er at the
    Little Heaven amuse­ment park.  He was a cool play­er, didn’t say much,
    –more

  • Wilson Koewing ~ Seven Shorts

    Truck Stop

    We were dri­ving across coun­try back to Denver and lost Odie’s leash. He need­ed to go for a walk and was young then and would run off. I pulled over at a Love’s Truck Stop in the mid­dle of nowhere Kansas think­ing they might –more

  • Joshua Hebburn ~ Bob

    We had spent many hours watch­ing peo­ple talk on the T.V.

    Well, Joan said. So we drove back.

    The hills were down to the earth. Each was a bare dirt heap, or a com­pli­cat­ed geo­log­i­cal jut.

    The trees—which we had known and liked –more

  • Kenton K. Yee ~ Six Poems

    MURMURATION OR BOONDOGGLE

    The meat in the pool—
    The rodent pecks the cat—
    The cat bleeds the bird—
    The bird drinks the dew—

    We’ve all seen this episode before.
    The cook­ie is red, the cook­ie is blue.

    The meat is actu­al­ly bread.
    The bread’s beet red.
    Red –more

  • Maya McOmie ~ Four Poems

    Rumor

    If you speak of me, I’ll be sneez­ing. The devil
    is spo­ken for, and so am I. Each gos­sip, each
    rumor: if only it were true. Usually no one
    cares enough about me to say any­thing, kind
    or cru­el. Since I sneeze so many times in –more

  • Julie Esther Fisher ~ Gargoyle

    English, cock­ney at that, the squadron of chil­dren are killers with their for­eign tongues. A new school for the American… At sev­en, she under­stands scarce­ly a word of what they say.

    The man in the black suit is her father. –more

  • Stephen Barile ~Three Poems

    ANCHOR HOTEL

    a four-sto­ry brick hotel
    at 90 Alexander Street in Gastown,
    the orig­i­nal settlement
    and old­est part of the city,
    close to the Port of Vancouver,
    was built in 1905
    to serve the itin­er­ant male pop­u­la­tions
    –more

  • Jack Buck ~ Temporary self-directed activities

    Went down the Colorado River, got out and camped along the way. A two-per­son tent for the group wasn’t large enough, so instead, we stored all our belong­ings inside the tent, elect­ing to sleep out under the stars. Our bod­ies –more

  • Mike Andrelczyk ~ The Laundry Room

    It was a slow day at the hotel. I kept check­ing my walkie-talkie to make sure it was on. I went down to the laun­dry room.

    What’s up Mr. Moneybags,” Olivia said. She thought it was fucked up I got tips for doing a job –more

  • Brian Builta ~ Five Poems

    My Best Friend

    Yes, I have a drink­ing problem
    and a mar­malade fix­a­tion, light
    dif­fuse and warm com­forts me
    whether through whiskey or oranges
    or orang­utans. I lurch and heave,
    weep and wipe my eyes and blow
    my nose and sigh to –more

  • Michael Grant Smith ~ Space Junk

    An ultra­light air­craft over­shoots the run­way and incin­er­ates my aza­leas. The pilot (a per­son I didn’t know) and my can­dy-col­ored flow­ers per­ish sim­i­lar­ly. Flames glow like movie the­ater “Coming Attractions” pro­ject­ed –more

  • Julian George ~ This is a pipe

    Maigret smiled around his pipe. — Simenon

    A great many men
    Many of them great
    In word and deed, in flesh and fantasy
    Were pipe smokers;
    These men
    Favoured the noble pipe to the shab­by gasper
    A trusty Briarwood to –more

  • Al Ortolani ~ Four Poems

    Losing a Ring

    My father blamed him­self. My moth­er said
    he should have lis­tened. Who gives
    a four-year-old a gold ring?
                          And that’s how
    it was left, like a tree –more

  • Andrew Plattner ~ Schuylkill

    She spot­ted Alvin seat­ed in a pew in the 30th Street Station, dressed in a wool coat too warm for September. He seemed to be focus­ing on the dig­i­tal board that held depar­ture infor­ma­tion. She’d thought of vis­it­ing –more

  • Glen Pourciau ~ Two Short Pieces

    Buttonhole

    I was at the col­lege for an author talk on a nov­el based on local his­to­ry. A few dozen peo­ple attend­ed and most of us head­ed after­ward to a refresh­ment table loaded with desserts pre­pared by stu­dents in the –more

  • NWWQ ~ JULY 2022

  • Abby Frucht ~ Take Six

    Even after a day being parked at the trail­head, she has yet to dis­cov­er the name of the trail, this stretch of boot prints in mud from which wet­lands spew, the lake to one side and to the oth­er some tur­tles sun­ning in muck, –more