How We Were in 2024
The stories and collaborations on Juke made it all worthwhile...
I don’t know about you, but I’ve had a rough year. Beautiful in a lot of ways, but rough. And, though I’m normally not a big one for optimism, I am tentatively looking forward to 2025. I know this upcoming year will have its own surprises to handle and trials to bear, but it’s hard to imagine any year feeling quite as tumultuous as the past one.
The one thing that has been a touchstone for me, even as I’ve worried and lost sleep over everything else this year, has been Juke. This page continues to be a place of friendship and fruitful collaboration, and every relationship I’ve developed through its creation has been a pure joy. For that, I can only credit the astonishingly gifted group of writers/artists/musicians who agree to publish with me. And, also, I have to credit every single one of you. Every reader who has joined us has played a part, just by granting us your time and your attention. You’ve really made this a lovely place to be.
To honor this past year of work, I’d like to revisit a few of the pieces you especially enjoyed and highlight the incredible variety of voices we’ve shared here. I hope this list reminds you of a few of your own favorites, or else introduces you to something special you might have missed the first time. Looking back through the year’s work, I was bowled over by how many great pieces we published.
I cannot thank each of you enough for being a part of our community. My hopes and warmest wishes are with you right now. And I’m glad to have you with me as we discover what the new year will bring…
Now, a few highlights from 2024…
*Note: If your email cuts off this post before the end, just click the title of the piece to read the whole thing on our site.
A couple favorites from Damon Falke…
Briefer Than Shadows
Do you recall the day when you stood by yourself, reading a book on K— Gata, and I saw you but you did not see me, because I have mentioned that day to you many times, though I cannot say how my talking about that day appeals to you, if it appeals to you, but let us be honest, you have often asked me to recall that day, …
From Paul Vlachos…
Motel 9000
We’re all animals. That’s what I tell myself as I lie in the bed of a motel in Framingham, Massachusetts. The thin veneer of human civilization gets frayed fast when you’re in a cheap motel. Especially now, in 2024. This place looked just good enough on paper when we booked it. Of course, “on paper” is a quaint term that now refers t…
Gas Stations at Night
There’s a big, slow curve as you come into Bishop, California from the north on U.S. 395. You pass through a few speed traps by the time you get here. When you hit this curve, you’re on the main drag and you should be doing no more than 30 miles an hour. People seem to obey that speed here, so I assume the police enforcement is …
Poetry and new music from Ned Mudd…
And Now a Word from the Big Bang
If the Universe is expanding does that mean we expand with it?
or is gravity holding us within our original nature
like an invisible girdle?
Gyotaku, from "Radio Free Nowhere"
There were no lead guitar players anywhere in sight during the recording, which took place in my living room, in between playing with the local raccoons...
My own essays…
Pescadero
What if you just drove and drove, until weeks passed. And if you ate a particularly late dinner one night, a particularly early breakfast one morning, and drove some more, and slept yet another night under white hotel sheets, and then kept driving. And if, like an astronaut on a tether, you passed through the whole country that way,…
The End of Everything: Part One
Sometimes, an essay gets out of control. I may have begun writing this with a sense of where I was going and how the tension would crest and fall, and then finally how it would conclude, ideally in under 3,000 words (I know there aren’t many readers who want to stick around longer than that,) but it didn’t happen for me. Midstream, the piece began to wa…
New works from poet Matt Layne…
Meat & Three
Meat & ThreeAfter I let people know, offers for lunch rolled in; free lunches may not exist, but so far, I’m not paying; in exchange, I talk about how they found it; catfish, please; and sometimes, the biopsy; cocktail sauce; and of course, my prostate; hardly anyone knows anything about the prostate; I sure didn’t; macaroni and chee…
On Grief
I have been involved with Birmingham, Alabama’s Day of the Dead Festival since its inception in 2003. When it grew large enough to warrant an emcee, I was asked to fulfill that role. I was 36, newly divorced, and attempting to figure out a whole passel of things in my life. One thing I recognized way back then was that death and loss and grief are great…
From artist Tabby Ivy…
From poet Sue Cauhape…
In the Midst of Weeds
In the Midst of WeedsOut my bedroom window I see three-foot waves of grass. These errant blades from shoveled horse dung infest my yard. I’ve despised these clumps that menace native rabbit brush or choke the manzanita. But each spring I wrench up roots that break the hardpan, and find tiny flowers sheltered in their sha…
From Anthony Head…
A Fish Story
Not exactly sure how old I was, maybe five, but I was pretty young and so were my two older sisters when we welcomed home our first family pets to grow up with. We got fish.
Fran Gardner’s new series of Creative Prompts…
From poet Jodie Meyn…
This poem has a hole in it
Publisher’s Note: Today’s piece is a guest post from Jodie Meyn who writes You are Here , the life and letters of a Midwest Housewife.This poem has a hole in it There’s something I can’t see The conceit is convoluted The enjambment is just Empty is the fishbowl We never did fill up We never got a goldfish, We only got …
A new contributor, the writer and collage artist Abigail Frankfurt…
Saved from drowning
I guess I have to write about the pool. The pool on the corner of Carmine Street and 7th Avenue. The lifeguard, John, who is 50 years old and has worked at the pool for 30 years, tells me the history of the city. He's from Staten Island and overweight and has a kid who is going to play high school baseball. John was an athlet…
And another new voice, Patrick McCarty…
Tejon Pass
I awoke, shivering in the dark. The cold had gotten all the way in. Through the grey two-man tent. Through my zero-rated sleeping bag. Through my clothes. Through my hat and scarf. I felt my head. My hat was gone. There was no way to stay warm without my hat. It was still dark. I felt around where my head had lain. Nothi…
And lastly, it was a great year of collaborations. Here are a few of my favorites…
And the day ends...
Today’s piece brings me so much joy. I first encountered Tabby’s work through her collaboration with Juke writer Damon Falke, and over time I have been so inspired by her willingness to share her art and her creative process with our readers. Then recently I heard from Tabby that she had approached the poet
Before we send out 2024, we have one last piece publishing before the new year. Look forward to Monday, when you’ll read a new piece from Damon Falke.
Thank you again for all you do.
Your friend,
Tonya M
Tonya Morton is, among other things, the publisher of Juke.
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What an amazing crew. Thank you for including one of my poems in this list.
I'm overwhelmed. Thank you for all you do to encourage writers.