Runaway

Nathaniel Terrell resides in Western NY. He is an accomplished writer, poet, author, and artist. In 2014, he published an inaugural collection poems titled Here Goes Nothing, through Mylk ‘n’ Honee publishing. His work has been featured in Cram Journal, Writing Raw, Fine Line Journal, Maudlin House, Good Men Project, Finding the Birds, Havik, Nine Cloud Journal.

His book Is There Not a Cause? was released April 7th by Atmosphere press and is available for purchase via atmospherepress.com, Amazon and Barnes and Noble

Lightning Bolts and Scars

Gregory Ormson works with Russell Thorburn, NEA award recipient, in creating works of poetry and song. Thorburn is a playwright with several books of poetry and a novel. Gregory Ormson’s ‘Midwest Intimations’ was the winning essay in the Eastern Iowa Review’s lyric nonfiction contest (Summer 2017) He won Indiana Review’s 13 word tweet contest in 2015. Guitaris Derrell Syria joined Ormson and Thorburn on this song/poem collaboration. Ormson words, Thorburn piano and edits, Syria guitar.

#motorcyclingyogiG

Twitter: GAOrmson

“My words explore a soul’s stretch toward a white star emerging from lightning. This prose piece, in four minuets, finds its structural bones and narrative beat from the rhythm of an old red water pump.”

Recorded in Michigan (music) and Arizona (voice).

Close as Brothers

Photo of Jennifer Hardacker

Jennifer Hardacker has been making short films for over 20 years. Hardacker’s films are subjective in content and formalist in style. She is fond of experimenting with technique, and finding the right film form to tell the particular story the film is telling. Her work has screened at extensively at film festivals throughout the United States, Canada and Europe. Hardacker’s films have won several awards and honors.

Seasons

Linathi Makanda is a South African photographer and storyteller. She is the author of the poetry and prose collection When No One Is Watching. Born and raised in Mthatha, a small town in the Eastern Cape province of South Africa, her hopes are to open the doors of opportunity for many other black womxn creatives to occupy spaces as well as redefine the capabilities of womxn creatives and womxn in general. Makanda’s photographic works have been recognized by publications such as Vogue Italia (PhotoVogue) as well as by Michigan’s Saginaw Valley State University literary art journal called Cardinal Sins. Her writings as well as photographic works aim to celebrate authentic expression and to drive the notion that everything and everyone is art, worthy to be experienced.

Seasons – a visual outlining the importance of weathering all one’s seasons and the swift changes that occur in life. The visual drives the notion that there is power in embracing yourself in all stages you are in.

Credits Videography & Editing – Mwango Muntemba Kondolo

Poetry Writing and Recital – Linathi Makanda

Art Direction and Styling – Linathi Makanda & Mwango Muntemba Kondolo

Location Scouting – Mwango Muntemba Kondolo

De-Eschatology

De-Eschatology is a physical manifestation of the claustrophobic conditions created by the COVID-19 crisis and the yearning to break free from them. The piece seeks to draw attention to a heightened sense of touch, which directly results from the lack of physical contact many in quarantine face. The film’s trajectory explores the gradual de-escalation of shelter-in-place orders, and its psychological effects.

Dance performed by Charly and Eriel Santagado, of mignolo dance. Their dance company can be found at https://www.mignolo.art/.

Tarang / तरंग

Chetan Bhakuni is a painter who was born in India, New Delhi. After doing his under graduation in BFA Applied arts (Graphic Designing), he joined Burren College of Art for his Masters in Studio Art. Working predominantly with oil and water colors, he often uses ball point pens for portrait drawings.

Tarang is a short movie about a poor Indian boy who wants to learn English. It is metaphorical commentary on a country where a foreign language has became a separate class and standard.

Medium: Ball point pen on paper

Kupyn, Russian Empire, 1903

Filmmaker and poet Ari Gold has won dozens of prizes for his films, including the Student Oscar, best film at SXSW, and many more. His award-winning drama “The Song of Sway Lake,” with Rory Culkin and Robert Sheehan, played 52 international film festivals. The air-drum cult comedy “Adventures of Power” (“One of the funniest films in recent years” – NY Magazine), is currently being re-released. His short “Helicopter”, about his mother’s death in a helicopter crash that killed rock music promoter Bill Graham, is being expanded into a feature film, and is excerpted in Alejandro Jodorowsky’s “Psychomagic.”

Ari’s most unusual awards include High Times Magazine’s “Stoner of the Year,” and the Guinness World Record for commanding the largest air-drum ensemble on earth. His next project is a game-changing action-adventure film about ecology, war, and the liberation of the human spirit.

Ari can be found on Instagram, Twitter, and Clubhouse @arigold as well as through his website, AriGoldFilms.com

Poetry Collection by Natascha Graham

Natascha Graham is a lesbian writer of stage and screen as well as fiction and poetry living on the east coast of England with her wife and two young children.

Her poetry and fiction have been frequently aired on BBC Radio and published in Every Day Fiction, Acumen, Litro, and Yahoo News to name but a few, while her stage work has been staged at the Mercury Theatre, Thornhill Theatre London, and won the best monologue prize at Fifth Avenue Theatre New York. Her short films have been selected by Pinewood Studios, Lift-Off Sessions, and Cannes Film Festival

My Girlfriend the Narcissist read by Vee Tames

The Husband read by Vee Tames

When Gillian’s Here read by Vee Tames

Sunshine Pie

Editors: We Contain Multitudes

It was exhilarating to receive my first copy of the New Plains Review. I’ll never forget what it felt like to flip through its pages and share my work with my friends and family… and that might sound a little odd. My work. Of course, I didn’t write the stories or create the art features. I didn’t even get to decide the font we used. That said, I had spent the last sixteen weeks diligently revising every single story, blurb, and byline in that issue. No one outside of the editing room knew about the knock-down drag-out debates that we had over misplaced commas, but for the first time in my college career, I had physical proof of what I “do” for a living. Unlike the stories and anecdotes that I had picked up from the various odd jobs I had held up to that point, the journal in my hand was something I could pull out at a moment’s notice to answer every concerned aunt, uncle, or family friend who wanted to know what I planned to do with a BA in English.

Needless to say, when I then began to work with digital publications, it felt somewhat “empty” to know that I would never get to physically hold the manuscripts I slaved over. Sometimes, these projects didn’t even end in a book or journal. Instead, I found myself writing email templates for business communication, calls for submissions, or onboarding material for my future coworkers. I thought this would be boring. These documents weren’t résumé material. They were filler designed to get us from point A to point B. That said, I began to see them the same way I looked back on those editing sessions with the New Plains Review. I wasn’t just editing the journal; I was helping to create a framework that extended past me. My documents were being used by graphic design artists, social media managers, and even university faculty members. As I seemingly sank into the background, I was rapidly entering the larger realm of technical writing.

Now, as we continue to explore what the working world looks like amidst a pandemic, I find myself appreciating these digitally born documents more and more. While nothing quite mimics the act of physically marking up a draft, that style of editing is becoming increasingly impractical. Even the process of keeping up with thumb drives feels tedious now. These days, it doesn’t matter if my fellow editors are a block away or in another city entirely; we are working together on documents seamlessly. File hosting platforms that I previously took for granted have now become crucial to my daily tasks. In fact, I have not one, not two, but four of them pinned to my taskbar right this second.

It took me several years to see that being an editor meant so much more than simply revising manuscripts. As a freshman, I had seen the endless lists of titles like “copyeditor,” “line editor,” and “content editor” and assumed that these each represented a unique editing faction—one of which I would have to commit the rest of my career to. Now, as a grad student, I see how these skill sets intertwine, not only with each other but with the jobs and tasks surrounding the publishing process. It seems that one day I’m a research assistant and the next, a website administrator, and yet my paystubs still credit me only as an editor. I may not have a bookshelf lined with every document I have created and/or revised, but that doesn’t rob my work of any validity. If anything, it has encouraged me to support other digital publications in kind. These massive digital archives allow users to instantly follow literary and academic rabbit holes that previously took years to develop, and people like me are making these connections happen. And that’s what’s most important: the community is still here, whether we physically print or not. It has never been a better time to be “the man behind the curtain,” even if you’re the only one who can really see the extent of it.