Browsing Month »April, 2009«

Turquoise and Petrified Wood

April 29, 2009

by Sam Kulla The son of a welder, Bernie Fanelli was raised in Montana. He quickly earned a degree in diesel technology but rather than working with machines, grew to be an accomplished mason. As a volunteer for the Montana Conservation Corps years ago, he developed an affinity for stone while constructing turnpikes and water [...]

Love in the Time of Swine Flu

April 28, 2009

by Sarah Kulla, Queretaro “Hey, take good care…don’t greet anybody by giving that peck on the cheek that is so in here, and try not to shake anybody’s hand either. Keep your distance. If you feel sick, immediately call a doctor or have someone take you to a Centro de Salud, whichever one, it doesn’t [...]

Our recent move

April 27, 2009

High Contrast Review has recently moved from samkulla.com to the address you now see in your browser, highcontrastreview.com.  Please take note.  During the move, we  did our best to ensure that none of the content in the archives was damaged or distorted, but that only kind of worked.  If you find yourself encountering errors, broken [...]

Lights through Yellowstone

April 26, 2009

photo by James Hepburn

Adorable Adventure

April 24, 2009

by Wynne Benjamin Renz The girl on the mat next to me Too shy to even ask a waitress for an extra napkin, Or admit her dreams of screen stardom, Touches my hand by accident, in corpse pose, says: “I’m sorry,” And then in a quick drink, She remembers her therapist telling her to Take [...]

Egg Yolk

April 20, 2009

by Jesse Cameron Alick, photo by Ando Nesia When the end of the world comes, it won’t matter who you are or what you’ve been. All your actions, good or bad, cracked like an egg on the sidewalk of eternity. How does it feel? To know you, born from nothing, are nothing, will return to [...]

Last Canyon

April 16, 2009

In my town is one canyon free of planed wood, where no dogs bark, nor cars come home at night. This canyon–a deep crease between shale, dim in summer, dark by winter morn– lies in timber and meadow ignorant of human tools. On a late autumn wind I walk past milky snowberries plumping for winter [...]