Writer. Stories in The New Quarterly, The Antigonish Review, Literally Stories, and others. Executive Editor: @MGLiterary.bsky.social
MoonLitGetaway.com/brandon-nadeau
Brandon Nadeau
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When morning comes, / the strawberry moon will / enter a new phase, and / the horizon, shimmering / now with light, will suffocate / within wildfire haze...
Read "Strawberry Moon" by Adrienne Weiss: buff.ly/SyVijbk
#PoetryCommunity #WritingCommunity #5amWritersClub
When morning comes, / the strawberry moon will / enter a new phase, and / the horizon, shimmering / now with light, will suffocate / within wildfire haze...
Read "Strawberry Moon" by Adrienne Weiss: buff.ly/SyVijbk
#PoetryCommunity #WritingCommunity #5amWritersClub
You’re sitting beside a murderer. / He’s reading a tear-stained newspaper. / There’s blood in his hair, / a red hand turning to the comic pages.
Visit our Poetry page (link in bio) to read two new poems by Bruce McRae
#PoetryCommunity #Poem #Poet #Canadian #LitMag
Gillian Crawford's grandpa was once caught on the back on a moving steam engine in the middle of a Manitoba winter. Read all about it in our spring issue! Thanks to Jill for sending these great pics!
praifriefire.ca/current-issue/
Thinking of studying #WhaleFall with your class? Check out my FREE 45-page #NovelStudyGuide! 40+ activities including #vocab #readingcomprehension #writing #biology and fun!
🔗 in bio and on my website.
#teacherspayteachers #middlegrade #middleschoolreading #middleschoolnovelstudy #debutnovel
You’re sitting beside a murderer. / He’s reading a tear-stained newspaper. / There’s blood in his hair, / a red hand turning to the comic pages.
Visit our Poetry page (link in bio) to read two new poems by Bruce McRae
#PoetryCommunity #Poem #Poet #Canadian #LitMag
“machines move through the frozen guts
of the empty / place / while people scavenge
slanted streets as fog lifts”
Read “Bone White” by Ryan DiFrancesco here: buff.ly/8NWWwqF
#PoetryCommunity #WritingCommunity #LitMag
I tell my mother that sometimes it feels like an emergency: she must know that no one else can ever be what she is for me. www.newyorker.com/magazine/202...
"By the third day the ocean felt rehearsed, too calm to trust. The whale had stopped calling. Silence in a cetacean isn’t peace; it’s retreat. Luc let the crew believe otherwise."
Read "Breath Ratio" by H.L. Delaney: buff.ly/KWC38kN
#5amWritersClub #WritingCommunity #ReadingCommunity #LitMag
"By the third day the ocean felt rehearsed, too calm to trust. The whale had stopped calling. Silence in a cetacean isn’t peace; it’s retreat. Luc let the crew believe otherwise."
Read "Breath Ratio" by H.L. Delaney: buff.ly/KWC38kN
#5amWritersClub #WritingCommunity #ReadingCommunity #LitMag
I tell my mother that sometimes it feels like an emergency: she must know that no one else can ever be what she is for me.
