A Literary Magazine Sponsored by The University of Maine at Farmington
The River is a representation of the Sandy River itself, which runs alongside the university and what inspired the name of the journal. It is a constantly flowing, ebbing and surging, body of content filled with contemporary work. To submit to The River please visit our Submissions page to the left or e mail TheRiverEditors@gmail.com directly.
The bike race comeseach year to San Sebastianattacks the famous peakat Jaizkibeldowntown the old manpulls his robe aroundhis ageing bodyshivering beneaththe northerly windeyes squinting overa cup of instant coffee remembering … Continue Reading Donostia
By Madison Brown I stare at golden treetops as the sun sinks slowly. Trees are strengthened by the decades they’ve lived. It makes me feel so young, so small. Like … Continue Reading Gold
By Anabelle Taff the cherry-blossom ocean backwash laps the hump of my chin,splatters over my rose lips. saltwater has never tasted so delicious.i smile at the authoritative sun and tiny, … Continue Reading ode to (pleasantly) drowning in a pink tidepool on world poetry day
Poetry is our salvation. By Austin Allen James Are we the jazz worthy of the Harlem River?Is the riff kind? We do not understand forever—onlynow. Human gospel lives in black … Continue Reading Frozen Boots and Boiling Lakes
By Corbett Buchly the night comes in like a broom brushing away the grasps of sun with streaks of moon ribbon and void grins of empty space the night is … Continue Reading the night is not what you think
By Richard Schreck Clinging to the nearest seat back for support, Marta Novak stood in the crowded aisle as the metro train descended below street level. Strangers’ bodies pressed in. … Continue Reading The Metro
By Allyson Petrek The instruction pamphlet says to dip the stick in for five seconds. Then, wait three minutes, no more than five. Because if you didn’t time things correctly, … Continue Reading Three Minutes
By Eben Lee Thomas Five deer tense in dense bright airof backyard hung between full moonand snow-pack. The short-horned buck staresat road, at dry-line, at house, and I in my … Continue Reading Deer Stand
By William Miller In a green, humpbacked late 50’s car, we were always driving but never seemed to get anywhere. My dad smoked like most people breathed, never let a … Continue Reading Home
By William Miller They remain, always, unknown continents where coastlines might be seen, touched, never the interior growth, the tall, foreboding trees or the caves between the rocks. And when … Continue Reading Other People
for Jon By Anthony Botti I do not remember what I was like before you. Early mornings, you swim in the sharp, nurturing surf. Our thirty-year relationship is like this … Continue Reading Winter Shoreline in Miami
the crocus at the end of winter By Anthony Botti So early, it’s almost dark. It’s nearly time now. I have lost my concentration in one of the coldest winters … Continue Reading Thaw in the Berkshires
By Robert Thomas Birds alightOn dying commotionPlaying and pipingThey sing to finality.Dogs earlier noticedOnly tugging and probingNow pit the air with distant yelps.Planes drone suddenlyA droning paradeEager and white-tailedIn the … Continue Reading Hearing Dusk
b y By Robert James Gleeful stumbles on graniteThe canoe is roughly landedWhere is the sharp filleting knife?A victory – hold it aloft and stand togetherWe’ll capture it on filmThe … Continue Reading Big Fat Lake Trout
By Andrew Vogel We never played in parks so’s I remember. Rail yards back behind the neighborhood, we would steal pallets and rusty racks from the warehouses and build forts … Continue Reading Vanishing Point
By Isabelle Foster I remember, nowThat it was onThe cusp of your kissAnd in the breathOf your embraceThat morning showedA new face,And nowI bendTo the arcOf summer lilies andHoneysuckleIn the … Continue Reading Struck