digging stones was young
grew older
from our chests

– Tonya Eichholz

High Hope Panic at the Disco

“Writing,” writes one author from this collection, “is like a room full of butterflys” (“Why I Write”). Indeed—enter the room of High Hope Panic at the Disco, where stories, poetry and journalism flutter about you with somehow both apparent abandon and quiet, instinctual method. From goon picnics (“Poem”) to meditations on death and empathy (“Mike”), High Hope Panic spans the emotinoal gamut promised by its title. With Cow Tipping Press, you’re always “losing a lifestyle—gaining freedom” (“When I”), and this latest edition is no exception.

 

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