by Hilary Zaloom | Jan 12, 2026 | Pineapple Zine
I am From... By Lynn Koerbel I am from the smell of new mown grass, and the sticky humid air of a Virginia summer;also–the sound of shovels scraping bare ground after a snow storm, maybe heralding that school is closed due to the weather. I am from days and...
by Hilary Zaloom | Jan 12, 2026 | Pineapple Zine
Time Travel by Deborah Schifter I open my calendar to enter an appointment, and 2025 stares back at me. How did that number get so big? Yesterday it was just 2009. In the intervening years, my deceased husband has slipped away—not gone, mind you, but not immediately...
by Hilary Zaloom | Jul 21, 2025 | Pineapple Zine
From the Pineapple Literary 'Zine The Disappearing Baby by Liz George I first saw him the day I moved to town. I had driven from Hartford with a last carload of my belongings—boxes crammed with God-knows-what, a basket of unwashed laundry. I was reeling...
by Hilary Zaloom | Jul 21, 2025 | Pineapple Zine
From the Pineapple Literary 'Zine What Summer Brings by Madlynn Haber Where am I in this summer of disorientation, of forgetfulness and recovery, of humidity and surprise? Summer smells of sidewalks, wet pavement, morning condensation on blueberries for sale at...
by Hilary Zaloom | Jul 21, 2025 | Pineapple Zine
From the Pineapple Literary 'Zine Three Bagatelles by Donald Wheelock Time Change To steal some morning light the way we do to give to afternoon, you’d think we had a need to twist our only globe askew, not violently so, but just a tad. The Wish to Want...
by Hilary Zaloom | Jun 5, 2025 | Pineapple Zine
From the Pineapple Literary 'Zine The Present by John Norris I seek it along the shore. It jingles brightly in my pocket. I store it in a jar on the shelf where it glows like a light from behind a closed curtain. I taste it on my morning toast, glimpse its flicker...
by Hilary Zaloom | May 28, 2025 | Pineapple Zine
From the Pineapple Literary 'Zine Writer's Block by Robin Barber At 5:05 am, my dad put on a soft white cotton shirt, his suit, and a good silk tie. Over his big balding head he pulled his second best Stetson fedora. Then he went out into the frigid pre-dawn...
by Hilary Zaloom | May 28, 2025 | Pineapple Zine
From the Pineapple Literary 'Zine Introducing John Corbett by John Corbett John Corbett is a life coach as well as a writer of fiction. If you read his fiction, you will learn to live your best life. His life guide, “Letting Go, Letting Great” may be one...
by Hilary Zaloom | May 19, 2025 | Pineapple Zine
From the Pineapple Literary 'Zine Alert Circles By Priscilla Cobb There’s a video online from the San Diego Zoo Safari Park, showing five African elephants onMonday morning April 14, 2025 when a 5.2 earthquake strikes, shaking the earth under theirfeet. Feeling the...
by Robin Barber | May 6, 2025 | Pineapple Zine
From the Pineapple Literary 'Zine Star Walk by Carla Manene Cooke Star Walk(tanka series) Our shoulders shaken,we awaken from slumber—it’s midnight. Daddydisentangles us from dreamsand wraps us in warm clothing. The long dirt drivewaystretches out into the...
by Robin Barber | Mar 24, 2025 | Pineapple Zine
From the Pineapple Literary 'Zine When the Hawk Appears on the Plump, Squat Shrub When the hawk appears on the plump, squat shrub, most often I soon hear William open the front door to our house. He always finds no one there. “It was you, wasn’t it,”...
by Robin Barber | Feb 20, 2025 | Pineapple Zine
From the Pineapple Literary 'Zine Sweating At Fred Segal by Heidi Kirkman Trading lies about our earliest memories, my mind rewinds to 1987 when I was young and fragile but too naive for a bad girl to be living alone in Hollywood. You were there too, of course. I...
by Robin Barber | Dec 14, 2024 | Pineapple Zine
From the Pineapple Literary 'Zine Oil Pump by Robin Barber It’s ok, you can make fun of my Dodge. You’re probably just jealous. I know you want it, and you can have it. Sure, it’s over 30 years old, but this was my dad’s car. If anyone knew how to keep a car running,...
by Robin Barber | Oct 1, 2024 | Pineapple Zine
From the Pineapple Literary 'Zine While the Old Men Prepare to Kill by Aiana Masla a Novembersilver & gold,shimmers & echoeson the barkof a sturdy Tupeloreadying for sleep & sugar makingon the hill of the sepia river. While the old men prepare to kill,a...
by Robin Barber | Oct 1, 2024 | Pineapple Zine
From the Pineapple Literary 'Zine Set Loose by the Mouth that Sings Like That by Aiyana Masla Surely you know the feelingtoday, & open the door,step out to the sunlight in your eyesyour hair uncombed, everything thick,the chair damp from last night’s rainyour feet...
by Robin Barber | Nov 16, 2023 | Pineapple Zine
From the Pineapple Literary 'Zine The Joy of the Dogs by Barbara Rouillard Auntie Shirley, my Uncle David’s wife, was a pediatric nurse from her twenties until the late1990s when she retired. Once she told me that she loved to watch healthy children at play, inparks...
by Robin Barber | Nov 16, 2023 | Pineapple Zine
From the Pineapple Literary 'Zine The Braid by Barbara Rouillard I had loved my job as a special education public school teacher with a long, fulfilling careerthat lasted for more than three decades. I felt I had had a life well-lived, but I was ready toretire those...
by Robin Barber | Nov 16, 2023 | Pineapple Zine
From the Pineapple Literary 'Zine Air by Barbara Rouillard “I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only.I would like to be that unnoticed and that necessary.”Margaret Atwood, Variation on the Word Sleep My mother rings a small, brass bell when she...
by Robin Barber | Nov 16, 2023 | Pineapple Zine
From the Pineapple Literary 'Zine Stacks of Fine Woodworking Magazines (Contemplating Eventual Downsizing) by Donald Wheelock My first thoughts of them aren’t with the craftbut with the atmosphere, with starting work:the optimism of the summer sun,the early morning...
by Robin Barber | Nov 16, 2023 | Pineapple Zine
From the Pineapple Literary 'Zine The Music of Mourning by Donald Wheelock Music takes me calmlyto its lair, rehearsesdark emotions, whetherthose of majesty orscents of love and asheswhere we grieve together. Phrases made from griefthrive in peace here. So, too,when...
by Robin Barber | Sep 25, 2023 | Pineapple Zine
From the Pineapple Literary 'Zine Upon My Sword by Liz Pertzoff My hands are an enlarged version of a lady’s hands that in Victorian literature might have been described as “long-fingered if nicely formed.” When I was younger I’d expected my fingers to become replicas...
by Robin Barber | Jul 31, 2023 | Pineapple Zine
From the Pineapple Literary 'Zine Scenes from the Death of a Devout Man By Norma Sims Roche He’d played the organ at 7:30 Mass for as long as most of the other retirees could remember. When the small white man with thick white hair stopped showing up, there was no...
by Robin Barber | Jul 31, 2023 | Pineapple Zine
From the Pineapple Literary 'Zine Wire to Wire by James Brunel Do not do as I did, one recent semi-tropical evening, high above the placid, flaccid, steamy dead-end shores of Lauderdale-By-The-Sea, and ask your assembled in-laws, gathered there from distant compass...
by Robin Barber | Jul 31, 2023 | Pineapple Zine
From the Pineapple Literary 'Zine She Made the Sale by Marc Berman A fanatic at the doorselling environmental salvationbegs for money at dinnertime. Not now, I say. Come back later.But my wife appears,morphs into a polite 80 year old widowand nodding, let’s the...
by Robin Barber | Jul 31, 2023 | Pineapple Zine
From the Pineapple Literary 'Zine The Nightingale by Susan Cocalis A non-conformist nightingalelonged to be a great white whaleHe once had heard of Moby Dick,whose skin was white and very thick,whose blubber never turned to flab,in his pursuit of Old Ahab.So for this...
by Robin Barber | Jul 31, 2023 | Pineapple Zine
From the Pineapple Literary 'Zine Ladder to the Roof By Brett Averitt We inherited a roof garden, as well asThe ladder Hermes left behind afterHe’d invented escape, trapped only by memoryOf his invention of cunning and theft.After a fancy education had workedIts...
by Robin Barber | Jan 14, 2022 | Pineapple Zine
Betweens | Stephanie Gibbs It is often reported that, deep in the woods, lurks a being so foreign and so forlorn, so passed over by evolution and by civilization, that all it can do is shake its shaggy head and bellow, bellow at the unfairness of the universe to pass...
