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The Covid 19 pandemic is isolating Alaskan writers. We can no longer attend workshops or public readings. The coffee bars where we met with other writers are closed. To bridge these physical gaps, 49 Writers is providing this on-line forum for Alaskans writing the distance. Jessica Cherry is today’ featured artist. Hindcasting for the Journey The […]

The Covid 19 pandemic is isolating Alaskan writers. We can no longer attend workshops or public readings. The coffee bars where we met with other writers are closed. To bridge these physical gaps, 49 Writers is providing this on-line forum for Alaskans writing the distance. Ketchikan’s Dave Kiffer provides today’s poem and photograph. A CITY AT

The Covid 19 pandemic is isolating Alaskan writers. We can no longer attend workshopsor public readings. The coffee bars where we met with other writers are closed. To bridge these physical gaps, 49 Writers is providing this on-line forum for Alaskans writing the distance. Eric Heyne provided today’s reflection and photograph. Distancing Ravens dogfight in

The Covid 19 pandemic is isolating Alaskan writers. We can no longer attend workshops or public readings. The coffee bars where we met with other writers are closed. To bridge these physical gaps, 49 Writers is providing this on-line forum for Alaskans writing the distance. Today’s broadside was created by Mary Odden. Broadside with Bulleit The

The Covid 19 pandemic is isolating Alaskan writers. We can no longer attend workshops or public readings. The coffee bars where we met with other writers are closed. To bridge these physical gaps, 49 Writers is providing this on-line forum for Alaskans writing the distance. In today’s post, poet and professor Emily Wall looks past

The Gift He had assumed that she was gone from his life. Not gone gone, like never seen again gone. But a twenty year old girl away at college and becoming her own woman kind of gone. Until the horrible miracle. The one that closed universities and coffee shops and the Hot Topic at the mall. The

TSUNAMI Fifty-six years ago on a heartless day in March,  the world turned on its head.  The world is turning again.   Barnacles crust over the remnant pilings of the long-vanished docks, shipwrecked reminders  of the last time the world stumbled in its courses. We are still here and the world is turning again. Mareth Griffith