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Word Fountain

The Literary Magazine of the Osterhout Free Library

We Are Open for Submissions

Submission Call for Spring-Summer, Issue #13

The editors of Word Fountain, the Literary Magazine of the Osterhout Free Library are happy to announce that we are once again open for submissions. We’re starting early this year in order to switch to a spring-summer and fall-winter printing schedule. The deadline for this window is March 31st.

For issue #13, to be released in May, we are looking for previously unpublished short fiction, poetry, and flash fiction. If your work Continue reading “We Are Open for Submissions”

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Issue #12, Winter 2017

Continue reading “Issue #12, Winter 2017”

Featured post

Lara Dolphin, Winter 2017

Time
Lara Dolphin

After “Blessings” by Ronald Wallace

waits.
Some days I find myself
making my bed but
not having to lie in it.
I have a leg to stand on.
I have a penny
to my name.

All around me people
are asking what the country
can do for them,
sweating the small stuff,
crying over spilled milk.
Words hurt me.
There’s a will
but no way.

Some days Continue reading “Lara Dolphin, Winter 2017”

Adam Gunther, Winter 2017

Something Just Above Nothing
Adam Gunther

There are two birds in the park,
I couldn’t tell you what kind,
so deliberately they sway back and forth on the branches
and they cackle and sing to one another, like a pair of old friends

And I,
I am left wondering:
what makes those birds first sing out?
I hope it is nothing.

Or rather,
something just above nothing. Continue reading “Adam Gunther, Winter 2017”

John Devers Jr., Winter 2017

The Metamorphosis
John Devers Jr.

Kafkaesque,
I woke up one day
To find I had
A protruding gut
And had aches from sleeping.
23 years of
Fast food, soda, and candy bars
Had finally caught up to me,
Who knew?
So I threw on shorts Continue reading “John Devers Jr., Winter 2017”

Zoë Sîobhan Howarth-Lowe, Winter 2017

Chem Class
Zoë Sîobhan Howarth-Lowe

I giggle into my textbook
watching the chem teacher, intending science,
spell out whimsy
in ancient alchemical symbols
that I have recently learned to read.

I hold court
at back of the classroom,
looking into the futures sewn
into the palms of silly girls,
I smudge the lines— Continue reading “Zoë Sîobhan Howarth-Lowe, Winter 2017”

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