"Old’s ’84" by Matthew Cusick, 30" x 45" Inlaid maps on panel, 2014, Mud Season Review


Mapquest to Auntie Iryne’s

By Lori White

Mapquest to Auntie Iryne’s by Lori White Leaving From:


Pack the following:

Water to silence your mother’s nagging cough

The only dress you own and a pair of sandals to solve any wardrobe objections your father may have (you can change in the back seat)


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Image from "Droplets," a photographic series by Natcha W., Mud Season Review


Sap Rising: A Natural History of Neighborhood

By Arthur Plotnik

Like old homesteaders circling their spread and recalling the early days, we often walk the forty steps of our cherished one-tenth-acre plot reflecting on when we settled in an unsettling Chicago neighborhood some three decades ago. We didn’t face locusts, dust storms, or massacres (though one murder took place around the corner)….
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"The Risk of Being Complicated" by Lorette C. Luzajic, 36" x 48” Mixed Media on Gallery Canvas, Mud Season Review


Where It Ends

By Elizabeth Gaucher

The wider and darker the bruise, the greater was the evidence of our commitment. In hindsight, that was a pretty unsettling attitude for a couple of twelve-year-old girls to have about their favorite pastime. Sandy and I invented “tennis basketball” one summer in the early 1980s, ostensibly just to occupy our bored selves…
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Image from the "Ethnic Karen Textiles" collection by Stewart Manley, Photograph, Mud Season Review


Knit to Feelings

By Megan Bush

Tell me about yourself, humans ask. We query friends, family, lovers; in supermarket parking lots, at dinner tables, in bars, in bedrooms. Over time, the answers become threads woven into cloth. The stories wrap us together, like children pressed against their mothers’ chests, like naked lovers held between one set of sheets…
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"Decrepit Dinos #3" by Jennifer Lothrigel, Photograph, Mud Season Review


Whacking a Doe

By Alexander Barbolish

It took three shots to kill my first deer. The first bullet hit at the base of her lungs and exited out the left shoulder. With awkward, halting leaps, the doe bounded forward about twenty yards and then stopped. I rose from the weeds along the tree line and walked out into the field, focusing on the dark hole in the middle of her side.
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"#3 Pollen Tsunami" by Ramsay Wise, 24" x 36" Spray Paint and Acrylic on Canvas, Mud Season Review


The Bees Are All Women

By Millie Tullis

My naked back is still open to the winter air, and I know Jaden can see its white glow even in the dark as we talk. I feel cold sitting up in the bed. I hold the heavy comforter to my neck and chest and bury my face in it when he speaks. “I think…it should wait…until marriage,” he says…
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Spring, Mixed Media by Iryna Lialko , Mud Season Review


The Grey House Didn’t Speak

by Rain Wright

No people remain to lift their hands in farewell. Home does not speak. It does not call out our names as we move up the steps onto the plane. It does not call out as if to say We have a long history, do not go
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"Taxco Cathedral" by Joshua Distler, Photo-etching from Sketch, 8" x 11", Mud Season Review


Bookbinding for Amateurs in Autumn

by Tara Deal

The creaking space is filled with what looks like torture equipment: guillotines, paper cutters, iron presses, hammers, and chisels. This is not a place for hobbyists, and I am grateful. Because I want to learn how to do something difficult….
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"Oil and Water," Oil on Canvas, 48” x 68”, by Ronna Lebo, Mud Season Review


with light steam

by Alex Simand

A few years ago I began frequenting a Russian bathhouse in San Francisco, a city far from my childhood home of Toronto, far from my pot-bellied uncles and drunken cousins, and Russian curse words. The bathhouse is called Archimedes Banya, and it does not market itself as a Russian bathhouse…
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Borrow Bit, wood engraving by Josh Distler


Like Happy Birthday But Not Really

by Edmund Sandoval

This year your birthday falls in the weeks between the day when she calls you at work to tell you between sobs that they found something in her brain and the day she meets with the neurosurgeon for the final diagnosis. They is a radiologist whose name we never learn but who, after looking at the MRI scan of her brain, says there’s a lesion right in the middle of it. In the Turkish Chair…
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