• Mona Kirschner ~ I Clean the House

     The house is large.

    There are ani­mals and a dam­aged man and curat­ed plants and old floors that bend. There is fur­ni­ture and dust and good light from the south side of Williamsburg.

    I clean the house to restore order. The house –more

  • Sean Ennis ~ Five Notes


    and your horni­ness? my friend Shadow’s wife Wanda blurt­ed out dur­ing Thanksgiving din­ner. They had invit­ed me to join them because I was a lone­ly wid­ow­er, but Wanda was talk­ing to her hus­band. –more


    NWWQ October 2023 sub­mis­sions are closed. We will accept sub­mis­sions again JANUARY 1–14, 2024. Below you will find the October 2023 issue of NWWQ. We thank all who sub­mit­ted –more

  • Ann Pedone ~ From: The Monogamist

    The First Aria

    If the oppo­site of dark is light, then what is the
    oppo­site of the body? Bleeding down your leg
    because you can’t find a tam­pon anywhere?
    That one split sec­ond before the music starts?
    The fact that once you’ve watched some­one –more

  • Julie Benesh ~ Zuihitsu

    (Translated from Japanese, Zuihitsu means “fol­low­ing the brush.”)

    1. My cat’s eyes fol­low the brush. She feels left out, wish­ing her tongue were as wide and deep as the bris­tles I pull across my scalp, and that she could make it reach the length –more

  • Francine Witte ~ You Will Come Back to Me

    Maybe on a Thursday, maybe tomor­row. You will knock knock knock at the door. I will be afraid to open it, hav­ing grown scarce and wan like I have. I will be afraid of all the things that aren’t love.

    I will be in the kitchen. –more

  • Sandra Kolankiewicz ~ Five Poems

    Just Fine

    At my annu­al physical,
    when the nurse asks me the screen­ing ques­tions, I lie.
    No, I am not afraid to go out.
    No, I do not feel anxious.
    No, I get the same plea­sure from everything
    that has ever made me smile.

  • Roy Gu ~ Three Poems

    The Cat That Eats Copper

    When Yang Xin’s mom was preg­nant it was
    dur­ing the Family Planning Crash-Down Campaign, and she was given
    an abor­tion shot.
    Yang Xin had a big life, as they said, and
    sur­vived. Only she looked curled –more

  • Julian George ~ Secretariat Rides into History, Belmont Park, 9 June, 1973

         J’aimé un cheval – qui était-ce? – Saint-John Perse

    The race is run.

    The rest of the field is still out there, eat­ing dust.

    They’ll be fine, once they get home. A rub down, an apple. Johnny Carson.


    This way,

    Beyond –more

  • Mel Bosworth ~ Calling Hours

    I ran by Bob’s grave this morn­ing. He died on September 10th, 2016. He was only thir­ty some­thing. On his grave were some fake flow­ers and a small, stuffed Ninja tur­tle. Raphael, I think. It had red armbands.

    Bob lived in the house –more

  • Elodie A. Roy ~ Petra’s Date

    Before the first date Petra already knows how futile it all is. She is aware of how inad­e­quate she looks, stand­ing half-undressed in the mid­dle of her room, three or four dis­card­ed dress­es at her feet. Last night, unable to –more

  • Pavle Radonic — The Malay Archipelago in Short

    Sour Taste

    The gay guy from ear­li­er in the year still cruis­ing at the mall, more cir­cum­spect today with his mum attend­ing. Neat, well-dressed, tidy woman retain­ing her looks, uncer­tain whether she knows.

    Two small amuse­ments from ear­li­er in the afternoon.


  • John Grey ~ Four Poems


    I take the leafy road
    in midsummer,
    below a trove of hid­den stars,
    drawn by orange light
    in the distance,
    beyond wheatfields,
    in step with a dragonfly,
    like the wind’s instrument,
    head­ing –more

  • Anna Mantzaris ~ The Detective

    Forget the sleazy store­front agency. I am here. Next to you. Dressed in a fray­ing trench coat with sun­glass­es made from an owl. I am liv­ing in cel­lu­loid. In a piece of black-and-white 16-mil­lime­ter film, cut hard and past­ed –more

  • Julie Benesh ~ Say

    In your next life you could be an orchid
    or dan­de­lion. Who’s to say who’s better?
    Fragile beau­ty or gold grit? Seriously:
    it takes all kinds. Literally: everything

    is designed to be what it is, to do
    as it does. You can stamp your tat­too

  • Glen Pourciau ~ Three Shorts


    Not look­ing for trou­ble, I avoid­ed an encounter with my for­mer friend, who shall remain name­less because nam­ing him would seem too much like con­tact. Taking walks helped clear my head, but see­ing Nameless (NL) on one of my –more

  • Jianqing Zheng ~ Five Poems

    Looking Twice

    —Tracy Sweeney’s Rain in Moonlight (oil on wood)

    The rain strings a gloomy tune
    for the line dance of trees,
    the sky beats its heart drum
    to silence the croak­ing frogs,
    the moon veils her face
    behind fleet­ing clouds.

    This is a shad­ows­cape

  • Andy Plattner ~ Two Stories


    A nine-year-old boy, I want­ed a sir­loin steak at a neigh­bor­hood restau­rant, an Italian place on 4th Avenue in Dayton, Kentucky. The week before, I’d heard some guy at the next table ask for that, a leisure-suit man with –more

  • Steve Gergley ~ Mannequin

    After work, I find a head­less man­nequin lying face down in my dri­ve­way. The man­nequin is dressed in a gold tuxe­do and pol­ished, black leather oxfords. A crust of red crys­tal clings to the crag­gy stump of the mannequin’s –more

  • Laurie Blauner ~ Five Poems

    Rumors to the Contrary

    Tired, I was fight­ing with myself, a duel between my good and bad inten­tions. I should have known but I could­n’t pre­dict what my oppo­nent would do next. I found myself in every direc­tion in my kitchen. Where could I run? I had an ordi­nary face, thin –more