Earlier this year, when I was still injured and couldn’t run, swim, hike or even walk much, I submitted a huge amount of work to various small presses, literary magazines and contests. I did this late at night, my defenses subdued by vast amounts of chocolate. And while I’ve been receiving a shitload of rejection… Read More New work up at Sport Literate and Rat’s Ass Review
So there I was late one night, furiously browsing the submissions lists on various websites and bookmarking contests and magazines. Unlike most, I don’t choose magazines by rank or so-called “quality.” I choose by feel. I want my work placed in magazines where they’d feel at home, and where I’d feel at home. I don’t… Read More Work up at Skinny Poetry Journal
So there I was in the bathroom doing my thing, when I looked up and saw a spider, delicate and black, climbing up the wall. Later that day I saw another spider in the kitchen, and yet another in my writing room. A sign, perhaps, for in Native American myths, spiders are weavers of dreams… Read More National Poetry Month: Two spider poems
Check it out: CHEAP MOTEL OUTSIDE OF HOLBROOK, ARIZONA BY CINTHIA RITCHIE Mildew sucks the ceiling, we eat crackers in the bathtub, wine bottle chilling the toilet, we fuck all week, sweat bruising the sheets, we smear apricot juice over our palms, eat cold burritos, throw Cheetos out the window for the lizards, we are earth… Read More New work up at Autumn Sky Poetry Daily
I don’t know about you but the holiday season is kind of bringing me down. It’s dark up here in Alaska, and it’s winter, and the birch trees outside our windows look so bare and bleak that I want to knit them all sweaters, except that I don’t know how to knit. Plus, all of… Read More All I want for Christmas is a used book. Or two. Or three …
Cinthia Ritchie 