Demystifying psilocybin
A review of Eugenia Bone’s Have a Good Trip: Exploring the Magic Mushroom Experience
A review of Eugenia Bone’s Have a Good Trip: Exploring the Magic Mushroom Experience
Magical beachcombing and a gardener’s nightmare in Invasion of the Daffodils
Novel explores humanity under siege in a post-apocalyptic U.S.
A review of Deliver Me by Elle Nash
Debut novel shines a light on small town poverty and human resilience
Author Gary Schanbacher’s vivid imagery takes the reader deep into his main character’s journey
Detective Inaya Rahman brings her signature empathy and experience to two complex cases
Kurt Bunch has a MFA in creative writing from Regis University in Denver, Colorado. He received a BFA in Film & Media Studies from University of Florida. He is eternally searching for what he wants to be when he grows up. He splits his time between Colorado Springs and the Pacific Northwest while enjoying family life, travel, sailing, crabbing, reading and napping, in between compulsive fits of writing novels and screenplays.
coming storm marks each month of a year in poems. Like Matsuo Basho, the traditional haiku master, Colorado Springs-based poet and teacher Dave Reynolds invokes images of the natural world and seasons. Beginning with January, he reflects upon snow laden scenes, deer in moonlight and impending storms. His family is often the subject. Coffee and spouse’s moods percolate; arguments pave paths like an avalanche. February speaks to resolutions and the pull of unbreakable habits. Yet those moments are erased in a blanket of white, their marks only visible once feet leave a Hansel and Gretel trail. Spring begins with reflections on the past and wordplay: “another year / another columbine shooting / up through the dirt.” Here, Reynolds remembers April 20, 1999, and the Columbine High School mass shooting. He, too, is a high school educator, Chair of the English department at Fountain Valley School in Colorado Springs. In his haiku, he educates his reader, remembering past losses masked in the colors of mountain flowers. Reynolds canters into hopeful summer: “the fog lifts / one by one / horses on the prairie.” He steps outside the indoor classroom to open space. Meadowlarks trill, dandelion seeds blow in the wind and fireflies glow like what once was. As summer fades, sometimes life does too. Reynolds learns by “letting go” those memories, just as he breaks with traditional haiku in both syllable count and topic. Dave Reynolds uses humor, sadness, nostalgia and love to animate his delicate haiku. He dedicates his collection to the women in his life, as well as haiku writers and readers—those that inspire him and keep the art form alive today. — Shelli Rottschafer