From Our Latest Issue

Good Morning, the Sun in October / BEE LB

“i don’t know what changed / aside from everything, but the sorrow / that has been coiling in my chest like a snake / beneath a heat lamp has unfurled…” BEE LB writes on the sun in October, after Sanna Wani.

Fall Call / Derek R. Smith

“Fall, with its amber slowness, rich, dark early evenings, mouldering leaf piles.” Derek R. Smith writes on this slumbery season.

When I Was Young, The Woods / Ron Riekki

“they were insisting on owning / the world, the lake bathed in / leaves, the leaves falling on top / of leaves, so many that my little / brother would hide…” Ron Riekki writes on youth in the woods.

Breathing Color / Derek R. Smith

“Under auburn leafy canopy crystal chilled / Water rushes, bubbling, dancing…” Derek R. Smith writes on trees and reflections.

Meadow / Mary Anna Scenga Kruch

“We walked toward the river into late September light, seeking space between the recent diagnosis and us;” Mary Anna Scenga Kruch writes on time in a perfect place.

Sepia Seepage Circa 1952 / Gerard Sarnat

“Lill taught me to fish for perch (I’d try to keep them alive in an old trunk on the shore) in the oil-slicked gas-smelling boathouse, how to row the dinghy.” Gerard Sarnat reflects on an upbringing.

State Trunkline / BEE LB

“Each mile ticks slower & the sky is layered stair by stair & if the whole world is not about to collapse, it is certainly straining under some unseen weight.” BEE LB writes from the road.

Seiche / Monica Rico

“When the rain came, I was relieved not to yank another sail on.” Monica Rico writes on a seiche at harbor.

Huff and Puff

“So the point is not to get caught up in perfection, the point is to produce something….” Kathryn Almy writes on leaves.

September / BEE LB

“A strip of film clicking into place. the dial winding, lining the film for the next shot–” BEE LB writes on the change of seasons.

There Was a Bluff / Ron Riekki

“The wind would only whisper, the woods making soft sounds behind us, everything so quiet, as if the trees knew they were going to be books one day, and this was a library…” Ron Riekki writes on “holy silence.”

Into the Hemlock Forest / Keith Taylor

“We walk down the trail at the edge of Carp Creek, almost to its mouth, then wade across.” Keith Taylor spends time in the creek and forest in “Into the Hemlock Forest.”

Power Island Killed Me / Christopher Wilson

“As I walked up, I noticed a massive fire pit smoldering by the trailhead.” In “Power Island Killed Me,” Christopher Wilson’s narrator has a new adventure in a familiar place.

Spirits in the Backyard / Keith Taylor

“After the chopping and hauling away were over, the long-lived dryads must have had no place to roost.” Keith Taylor reflects on his backyard in “Spirits in the Backyard.”

Black Crown / Monica Rico

“& of course there are flowers without scent, the ostentatious hydrangeas cover the house lest it not look like the others…” Monica Rico writes on flowers, herons, and walking women in “Black Crown.”

Beach, Lake Michigan / Annaka Saari

“Sitting in the sand I remember the blue-gray strokes of a painting my grandmother created years ago.” Annaka Saari reflects on time spent at Lake Michigan.

Sound and Water / Tyler Duffrin

“The cicadas, the birdsong, it’s like a symphony, it’s outrageous.” Tyler Duffrin reflects on our continuous search.

Canadian Fires / Keith Taylor

“The moon is red tonight and there’s a tang of pine smoke in the air.” Keith Taylor reflects on the 2023 haze.

Holy Water / Mitchell Carter

“A consequence of the lasting geometry of sailboats, these pictures capture my experience on our holy waters.” Mitchell Carter shares a photo series.

To Skip a Stone / Monica Rico

“I swear it was hours, years, we floated, and I touched you like a fish in stillness.” Monica Rico writes about Lake Michigan.
PENINSULA ARTS MAGAZINE IS ENTIRELY READER-FUNDED.
Donate today.

Get newly published pieces, updates on our print issues, and calls for art and writing straight to your inbox.

Shopping Cart
Scroll to Top