Current Issue · Numbers 1 & 2 · 2025
The editors are proud to share the work in Volume 45 of The Worcester Review, which features 35 poems and 10 pieces of fiction. The feature section highlights Worcester’s long poetic legacy, with scholarly essays on six Worcester poets alongside brand-new poems inspired by the places and people of the city’s literary past. You can also find winners of the Frank O’Hara Prize and the WCPA College Poetry Contest.
December 18, 2025
Volume 45 of The Worcester Review is on its way to contributors and subscribers. The editors are proud to share the work in this issue, which features 35 poems and 10 pieces of fiction. The feature section highlights Worcester’s long poetic legacy, with scholarly…
December 7, 2023
The Worcester Review is delighted to announce its 2023 nominations for the Pushcart Prize, all of which appear in Volume 44. Poetry “Connective Tissue” by Rae Gouirand “rabbit” by Kathleen Hellen “curriculum development” by Matthew E. Henry “unplug the microwave”…
October 3, 2023
Volume 44 of The Worcester Review is on its way to contributors and subscribers. The editors are very proud to share the work in this issue–including the review’s first all-flash fiction section, a feature folio of writing by Clemente students,…
From the Archives
Saturday afternoon, drunk already on the surprise sixty degree January sunlight and the two scorpion bowls we just left empty as churches inside the Ho Toy, not like the churches in the game we used to play with our hands when we were kids, here is the church, here is the steeple, turn it all over and here’s all the people, but totally empty, drained, even the fruit sucked dry, like two fishing boats abandoned, the pink and blue straws like fishing poles hanging out over the sides. I mean Roanoak empty, empty as hell, like the Mary Celeste, that ship they found floating out at sea with no one aboard, the captain’s log filled, the table all set, the people nowhere to be found. We toddle our way across the Great Plains of the worn and cracked parking lot and you ask how many years we’ve been coming here and whether I will ever tire
From Volume 29
