With all the doom and gloom in the forecast—and on the ground—we here at Rough Copy thought there was never a better time for a touch of whimsy. From Zoe Francesca’s dream poems to Elizabeth McKenzie’s talking cat, there’s something in this issue to tickle everyone’s fancy. But in between the laughter, be sure to […]
A cat could change everything!
Julie began, following this brainstorm, to look in the want ads and watch bulletin boards and visit the pound, that vile-smelling, heart-breaking place. Though she lived in a third floor Russian Hill flat, and was well-aware she would end up with one of those poor housebound creatures that flop around growing […]
Jesse Reno is a self-taught artist living in Portland, Oregon. His mixed-media paintings are a delightful mix of shamanic figures, totemic imagery, forest sprites and creatures of the sea–guideposts for navigating a man-made world increasingly at odds with its natural environment.
Recently, I caught up with Jesse at Opposable Thumb here in Portland, where talk about […]
What could be more natural?
My mother is pregnant.
Here she is, in a public swimming pool,
in labor.
The water around her is cloudy.
“A tub,” I call to her.
“Try a birthing tub.”
Her body is round and floats.
Now we’re in a makeshift tent
and the belly dancers
are getting ready to perform.
“My mother’s in labor,” I tell them.
To mom I say, […]
Some of us (only some of us)
are invited to the White House
for dinner.
The room is gold baroque
with high ceilings. There’s a
candelabrum on each round table
but Daddy comments
he’s seen this room before, looking much nicer,
and then I know…
we’re being treated
to the cheapest possible version
of dinner at the White House.
No one from the White House
actually shows up.
Just […]
Earlier this fall I began writing a small book about writing to coincide with next year’s 10th anniversary for the Attic Writers’ Workshop. My little red book, as I’ve dubbed it, is more of a pep talk than a How To. It dwells on the kind of attitude a writer needs to stay with it, […]
He’s here. On campus. A sophomore sees his Harley spin into the faculty parking lot. A grad sees him stomp toward the elevator in his combat boots. The department secretary races up to the sixth floor where we have gathered for our first faculty meeting of the semester. She rushes toward us, arms waving.
Impossible, we […]
The wind blasted through the open window of our silver Chevelle as my mother launched a high-speed chase through our peaceful suburban Baltimore neighborhood. Other mothers wore platform sandals and carried straw purses. My mother sported steel-toed tactical shoes and packed a .38. Fresh from graduating from the police academy in 1975, she tucked her […]