Letter from the Editor

Issue 53 • Spring 2026

In the months since we published our 52nd issue in the fall of last year, I’ve spent a lot of time studying the Tarot. I’ve done this, in part, because the world is even more chaotic and upsetting now than it was when I wrote my last letter to the editor, and the cards suggest explanations that are, if not always hopeful, at least reassuring in their cosmic scope. I’m not sure that the Tarot reveals higher truths by supernatural fiat, per se—the jury’s still out for me personally, though I’ve had some uncanny experiences and many useful insights. Rather, I’m drawn to the cards, and find much of what I learn from them useful, precisely because of their infinite interpretability. A reading is a lot like a story, or an essay, or a poem, or a painting, in that it is made up of fixed elements in fluid arrangements: the individual cards are always the same, though they appear in a new order each time they’re read. Similarly, a piece of art or writing is a combination of recognizable, and thus meaningful elements—colors, conflicts, characters, and so on—that are made new each time by being placed in a certain order. Reading, in both senses, is not the passive reception of these elements, but an internal, interpretive process unique to each reader, each time. From this process emerges an experience that defies explanation, a moment of illumination that reveals a whole larger than the sum of its parts. The capital-T Truths of the world, so hard to grasp when we deal in mere facts and figures, can often be glimpsed through the kinetoscope blur all those little archetypes whirling together; if you squint your eyes, still images can come alive with motion. Magic is the only name I know for it.

I think we could all use a little bit of that these days. If you’re reading this, perhaps you came here looking for it. Whatever the reason you’re reading BMR today, I want to thank you for taking the time to do it. I sincerely believe that seeking out glimmering nuggets of truth in works of art is one of the best things we can do to improve the situation in which we, as a planet, presently find ourselves. It’s not much, but it’s what we’ve got. Congratulations to the winners of our 53rd contest issue, and a huge thanks to our judges, Joshua Wheeler, Brittany Means, and Hakim Bellamy, for their hard work discerning the best of our submissions. If you took the time and effort to submit your work to the Blue Mesa Review, we owe you a huge thanks, too—even (especially!) if we didn’t end up publishing it this time around. Your courage and persistence make publications like BMR, not to mention the whole literary enterprise, possible. We need you now more than ever. Last, I want to thank the incredible BMR masthead I’ve had the pleasure of working with over the last year, especially my managing editor Paris Baldante, without whom everything would’ve definitely flown off the rails. This issue, like every BMR issue, is a product not only of our masthead, but also of all the undergrad and graduate students that read submissions as part of Marisa Clarke’s class at the University of New Mexico. A huge, final thank you to all of them, and to Marisa, too!

Happy reading and take care,

John Hardberger

Issue 53 • Spring 2026

Fiction

Poetry

Fiction

Poetry