Callie Feyen

In Chapel, the pastor tells us we are all rough drafts. He goes on to say something about the manuscript he’s writing or maybe it’s a dissertation. Either way, he knows what rough drafts are like. The Chapel is mostly filled with students and I look to see if they’re eager to learn this news about being rough drafts. I… View Post

Monsters are everywherewaiting.They point to the tomatoesgrowing in the dark.They peek at mebehind the treeswhile I crouch closerto the rosesbecause the pedals’mosaic of color–jagged and crooked–like the roseon my fingerthat hurtsto hold my pen against it,reminding me that nothing is wrong,but as long as I write,that markwill never go away Read more (and submit a poem of your own) here.

Around here the pool is open and did you know Jesse is the President of the club this year? I told him, “Don’t do it,” and he said, “OK,” and a week later I receive an email from the GTCC President, Jesse Feyen, telling me the golf course will open soon. “Are you serious?” I said. “It’s in my skill… View Post

I am standing underneath a tree, the one that held a hive I never knew about until autumn flexed its winter muscles and blew the leaves that hid it off, when my friend Megan asks me, “Before I read your manuscript, can you give me some direction?” I circle the tree so I’m standing below where the hive once hung,… View Post

A Collage Essay. I am at the pool with a friend when her son and his friend, both of them 10, both of them dripping wet and shivering, ask if they can get a treat from the Snack Shack. “Yes,” she says, and her son’s friend smiles and watches a water droplet race down his knee and his eyelashes reach… View Post