miss macross
Creative Nonfiction Contributor
Creative Nonfiction Contributor
Nonfiction Contributor
Elisabeth Horan
Just let go—-
Time to take it easy—
Let them take you in
Be the candle
Not the fire hazard
Take a break from spitting tacks
Bending over fighting back
No one’s going to help you
They’ll leave you writhing in the blood warm
Earth. Lift your heart up out your chest
Splat it on the sidewalk. Rip the soul
Right out of your belly wring it dry, hang
Up for the rest to see what
You become. Ate enough shit you say, I
Split. Drank enough heartache, split. Let
Go, what’s the point. Be
Thankful for what God didn’t do to you,
So take
your lick
s, the bit
ch, the stam
ps, the bott
le, the mot
el, the need
le, the cita
tion, the
jail bir
d, the dad
dy, the flous
ie, the orph
an, the beg
gar, the can
cer, the stitch
es the den
tures the gl
ass and make a
bird. Wat
ch my angel
go, it fli
es so soft
ly—-
Poetry Contributor
Steve Bucher lives and writes poetry in the Virginia Piedmont. He is an active member of the Poetry Society of Virginia. His poetry appears in the Blue Heron Review, Glass: Facets of Poetry, the Journal of Inventive Literature, the California Quarterly, the Way to My Heart anthology, the deLuge Journal, Artemis, NoVa Bards, Calliope Magazine, and the Smoky Blue Literary and Arts Magazine.
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for picking up this very first issue of Nightingale & Sparrow. This whole thing began when I messaged some friends with a sudden realisation: I think I want to start a lit mag. In the time I’ve been a part of the literary community, I’ve seen so many lives changed by small publications like this. I know what it feels like to finally get that first acceptance . . . and to be stung by rejections. I wanted to be a part of that, to give back to this community just a little bit of what I’ve seen it provide time and again.
So, with a bit of digging to finalise some of my favourite bird imagery and a bit of quick web design, I created Nightingale & Sparrow. And, even in my wildest dreams, I could hardly imagine the response it has already gotten. Before we’d even opened submissions, we were getting hundreds of page views a day on the N&S website. So many people shared their enthusiasm and support for this project from the very start and I could not be more grateful to each and every one.
We received so many amazing submissions for flight and I wish I could have included many more of these wonderful pieces. But I have no doubt that this issue has some of the best work available.
We have more than 50 amazing writers and artists in this issue, each sharing a unique glimpse into their interpretations of flight, be it literal or metaphorical. From birds and planes to daydreams and fleeing the things that scare you, these pieces ultimately moved us, as I’m sure they will you.
At times, your heart will soar like Sarah’s flight in Kimberly Wolkens’ “A Mother’s Love” or the mysterious beauty in Amanda Crum’s “A Murmuration of Starlings.” You’ll feel Karen’s sorrow as she cares for her father in Scott Moses’ “Right Now, Long Ago” and the water surrounding you in K.B. Carle’s “Submersion.” The imagery both in the words and in the accompanying images will move you. flight will make you feel something striking with every page.
So, thank you to each and every contributor and every submitter who trusted Nightingale & Sparrow to consider your work. Thank you to the friends and family who’ve helped support my fledgeling publication. And, of course, thank you to you, reader, for picking it up!
I truly hope you enjoy reading this issue as much as I did in compiling it and I cannot wait to do it all over again for Issue II.
Editor-in-Chief, Nightingale and Sparrow
Tiffany Moton
wind, won’t you blow me away
from this holy mess, this rat’s nest
bed of filth and biting guilt
in which i lay
under wrinkled covers stained
in hours cried and tears dried
bust in and bare my paper skin
i beg you wind, blow me away
rustle the stale air heavy
with despair
before it crushes me for good
whichever way you choose to blow
that’s where i’ll go
mercurial breeze i’m down here
on my knees, please
don’t leave me behind, i’m sick
with a disease of the mind
that strangles my soul, enervates me
drains me to a mere vacancy within
a wreck of a body
delicate to touch, caution:
may collapse to dust if loved
too much
better left to croon
the quarter life blues in solitude
until i hear the whistle of your wings
one day
wind, won’t you blow me away?
Sarah Schaff
it’s the birds
migrate south
wings eager
like knives
not yet old
enough to know
how a mother mourns
how a mother mends
Poetry Contributor
Poetry, Creative Nonfiction and Photography Contributor
Space Cadet, Awakening, Wild 2, Bright eyes, Hope, Flight, Phoenix
miss macross
Today I received an email from the National Aviary. It was a follow-up to my job interview three months prior. It read something along the lines of:
We apologize for the delayed response. We had an unexpected hiring furlough but are now ready to proceed. We would like to offer you the position of [INSERT DREAM TITLE HERE] with an immediate start date.
I received this email while I was at work. Now it is several hours later, and I have yet to respond. Instead, I am working on a longform investigative article with little prospect for publication. It is about the Apollo 11 and Apollo 17 lunar rock samples that then-U.S. President Richard Nixon gave as goodwill gifts to over 100 nations and states. Nixon had small Moon dust samples placed in acrylic capsules, which were then attached to wooden display stands with banal dedication inscriptions and depictions of each nation or state’s flag.
Upon delivery of these goodwill gifts (which were distributed in the early 1970s), their fates were no longer tracked by NASA or any other U.S. entity. Many recipients thought of them as little more than a novelty item – if humanity had reached the Moon before, then we’d surely reach it again. The dust was essentially worthless. But the last manned Moon landing was on 1972, and the gifts are now worth millions of dollars.
Dozens of these gifts have disappeared in the decades since the last Moon landing. Some have been found; in the strange cases of Colorado, Missouri, and Nebraska, they were later found in the homes of former state governors. In Alaska, the Apollo 11 sample was taken by a teenager from the ashes of a fire that destroyed the Alaska Transportation Museum in 1973.
Other samples were lost during political strife, like the Apollo 17 sample given to Cyprus around the time of their 1974 coup d’état. The Apollo 11 sample given to Spain disappeared following the death of General Francisco Franco. The Apollo 17 sample given to Romania disappeared in the years after former President Nicolae Ceaușescu’s execution by firing squad. Rumors of the fates of these gifts range from their destruction to their sale on the black market.
Some of the goodwill gifts were blatantly stolen and have yet to be found. These include Sweden’s Apollo 11 sample, stolen from a museum in 2002, and Malta’s Apollo 17 sample, stolen in 2004. These thefts have largely baffled both scientists and law enforcement officers, as without proper documentation these samples are totally unverifiable and completely worthless. And yet, years have passed without a single lead in almost every lunar sample theft case known in the world.
I’m not sure why this topic caught my eye, but I fell down the rabbit hole of missing space rocks while researching lost works of art and media. As it turns out, there are lots of things missing in this world. Some are movies made on flammable film, or censured books. In the case of the Amber Room, an entire Wonder of the World can go missing. Lots of people go missing every day – some through foul play, while others simply decide to walk away from their lives and into oblivion. While writing this, I am thinking about the latter option. How viable is it to disappear oneself today, in a world of ubiquitous technology and obnoxious-but-supposedly necessary legal identification requirements? If specks of dust worth more than I’ll ever earn in my lifetime can disappear, then I should be able to, too, right?
After I came home from work, I re-read the email. The job offer has rattled in my heart and brain all day. I am happy at my current job, but I am also not happy. The pros and cons of each position are seemingly equal. If I were to quit my job tomorrow, would I be able to provide an honest reason, one that will let me sleep at night? I am the only one at my current job with my particular skillset. I suddenly feel an increased sense of worth, but I don’t see somewhere to cash out. Honestly, I don’t think that either are the best choice. Maybe I’ll never respond to that email. Maybe I won’t go into work tomorrow. I choose to spend my evening finishing another beer and researching missing pieces of humanity’s history.