Blog

Julie Marie Wade

March 24, 2017
Julie Marie Wade is the author of four collections of poetry and prose, most recently Catechism: A Love Story (Noctuary Press, 2016) and SIX: Poems (Red Hen Press, 2016)

The Boarding School Letters

By Ah-reum Han   |  March 20, 2017
But consider for example the six-year-old daughter, face down on her new dorm bed, who cannot possibly imagine what to write to her mother a thousand miles away...

Paradise Lost

By Angie Crea O'Neal   |  March 13, 2017
My daughter spies it first, the butterfly limp on the pavement...

Holding Hands

By Stephanie Dethlefs   |  March 6, 2017
We walk up the stairway of my grandmother's porch. Towers of brick flank the stairs, which later we will scramble up to leap into the soft green grass below...

A Life Story, Buried and Unburied

By Jo Scott-Coe   |  March 2, 2017
I seek out some nonfiction knowing I will find the author's train of mind as compelling as his subject. This was certainly true with John Edgar Wideman's latest book, Writing to Save a Life: The Louis Till File.

Dead Man Tim

By Cheryl Lynn Smart   |  February 27, 2017
Tim's apartment was cleaned and all his belongings put out on a curb in the parking lot. This is the saddest part...

Yes, They've Met

By Jolene McIlwain   |  February 20, 2017
There's a 1/16 scale Texaco truck parked on our mantle, its frame crooked and stack bent from ways it's been stored. I dust it. Then, I dust my son's toolbox, an eighth-grade shop project etched with the name he's inherited from good stock. My husband's grandfather drove a Texaco truck...

Ice

By Heather Osterman-Davis   |  February 13, 2017
I'm nine months pregnant with my first child, and the snow in NYC has been beaten into submission. I've just come off a packed subway...

Why We Need Literature More Than Ever

By D.L. Hall   |  February 7, 2017
Flesh and Stones: Field Notes from a Finite World by Jan Shoemaker

Seattle, After the Rain

By Anna Vodicka   |  February 6, 2017
To the birds, we must look like ants at a picnic, the way we crawl from our dark caves and run crazed for sidewalks and grassy parks...

Announcing the Winner of the 2016 River Teeth Book Contest

February 1, 2017
Congratulations to Sarah Viren, the winner of this year's River Teeth book contest. Her collection of linked essays entitled "Mine" was picked by our final judge Andre Dubus III.

This is Where You'll Find Me

By Jenny Lara   |  January 30, 2017
New York City, after we lied then made rules. It shouldn't work by a long shot but it does....

Lines of Light

By Clara Mae Barnhart   |  January 23, 2017
At sunset in Burlington the power lines are golden like the afterglow of sparklers when children twirl them in the air. A frayed ribbon of sunlight stretches out...

What We Did with the Honey

By Julia Shipley   |  January 16, 2017
The day we learned you were gone, Howie says he knocked, nothing answered.

Stitched Together

By Heather Gemmen Wilson   |  January 13, 2017
Body Memory is comprised of five, intimately connected essays. All of the essays, together, weave a story, simultaneously sad and expectant, of a man bereft.

Parabolic

By Jack Bedell   |  January 9, 2017
His first summer married, my father tended chickens. His job was to chase the birds out of the tin coop on hot days...

Morning (repeat)

By Michelle Webster-Hein   |  January 2, 2017
When my infant daughter wakes at two in the morning and her father cannot coax her back to sleep...

The Day to Day

By Jessica Terson   |  January 1, 2017
Sifting the flour. Squeezing the lever once. And then waiting. For a moment, it is winter again. I take my finger and make snow angels in the little blue bowl. After you died, they said the only thing to do was keep on living...

The Day to Day

By Jessica Terson   |  January 1, 2017
Sifting the flour. Squeezing the lever once. And then waiting. For a moment, it is winter again. I take my finger and make snow angels in the little blue bowl. 

White (repeat)

By Jennifer Bowen Hicks   |  December 26, 2016
We no longer remember the sound of birdsong or the feel of dry pavement beneath our feet, but we walk to school anyway because school is the place we're meant to walk to on Tuesday mornings. Temperatures register -23 below zero...

Grace (repeat)

By Aaron J. Housholder   |  December 19, 2016
"Thank you," I tell the manager, "for taking my order so late." The sizzle of the grill frames my words. "I appreciate it."

Holding (repeat)

By Kathryn Wilder   |  December 12, 2016
My sister and I live on either side of sixty. We've been mothers half our lives. Visiting her in Oregon, Ashland running a steady hundred degrees for days into weeks, we head to Lake of the Woods...

A Craft He Would, Thankfully, Never Learn

By Michael Steinberg   |  December 8, 2016
In the 1970s and 1980s, freshman composition was a province of nonfiction writing. In those days, teachers who taught comp--myself among them--learned our craft largely from the primers of people like Peter Elbow, Toby Fulwiler, Wendy Bishop, and Donald Murray, four of that period's more formidable, most passionate teacher-writers...

Turkey Soup (repeat)

By Marissa Landrigan   |  December 5, 2016
On Thanksgiving, after the turkey is carved and gutted - after we slice through half of the twenty-pound bird my mother insists on ordering...

Pushcart Nominations for 2016

December 2, 2016
River Teeth is pleased to announce this year's Pushcart nominations!

Birthday Cards

By Jia Lim   |  November 28, 2016
Once, I wrote a birthday poem for her forty-second. It described her love of wine, and how she was so very fine. Exceedingly satisfied at the neat rhyme and my infinite untapped potential, I awaited glowing praise...

An Absence of Yellow

By Lisa Laughlin   |  November 21, 2016
It's mid-August and already my grandfather's pumpkins boast a bright orange. His cucumbers have laced thin vines up the patio rail. The tomatoes flush cherry-red in waves. My grandparents bribe me with vegetables to come for a visit...

Claudia

By Jo-Anne Cappeluti   |  November 14, 2016
She was only 15 and already had lost a leg to bone cancer. Our high school girls' Sunday school class had pondered this for a few weeks...

In the Fold

By Ariana Brocious   |  November 7, 2016
She wields a basket of clean linen with easy confidence: one, two moves across the chest to make a towel into thirds...

Growing Up With Doomsday

By Mimi Schwartz   |  November 1, 2016
Memoir, in the hands of its best practitioners, enables readers to enter a world quite different from their own--and find common ground. No writer does this better than Jerald Walker, author of The World in Flames, A Black Boyhood in a White Supremacist Doomsday Cult.

18-2 (13)

a craft he would thankfully never learn (1)

alex lemon (2)

an absence of yellow (1)

angela pelster (1)

authors (2)

beautiful things (159)

birthday cards (1)

book contest (6)

book review (107)

david lazar (1)

fleda brown (1)

grace (2)

heather gemmen wilson (1)

holding (2)

in the fold (1)

jack bedell (1)

jerald walker (2)

john edgar wideman (1)

julia shipley (1)

lines of light (1)

morning (1)

neglected nonfiction classics (4)

parabolic (1)

pushcart (12)

seattle after the rain (1)

turkey soup (2)

what we did with the honey (1)

white (2)

winner (3)

writing to save a life: the louis till file (1)

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