Some of our past contributors have continued their writing careers and now have books of their own or a history of publication in mainstream adult journals. Some are married and are raising children. Their maturity attests to our own. Surely, we can relax knowing that we have finally grown up.

The truth is that each issue in a new beginning, a new birth. The truth is that we are only as old as the ink that sets a fresh crop of poems and stories onto the page. For us, the clock rewinds each time we finish another mail-out. We are a literary Sisyphus, as all literary magazines are, and we push our rock happily up the hill. We don't age. We don't grow up. We are a conundrum, a paradox. And we love it.