June 21, 2026
Dear Friends,
It’s been quite a quarter here at MoonPark. For our submitters who’ve waited longer than usual for a response from us (or perhaps, are still waiting), please accept our apologies. We don’t like to get behind in the queue, but life has a way of taking things out of your hands sometimes.
We’re still just a two-person editorial team, and a married couple, so when a health crisis hits our small family, it makes things a bit of a challenge at the editorial desk! The fact that we have this issue ready to go—and on time—is a true testament to how integral MoonPark Review has become in our lives.
When you submit to MoonPark Review, your stories and prose poems come with us wherever we go. We read your submissions continuously, year-round. (And we are catching up on the queue, we promise!) We like to have editorial meetings in our living room or on the front porch, but we’ll do them in hospital waiting rooms or while convalescing, if that’s what’s needed. And while it’s been a much too “eventful” spring, we’re happy to share that the prognosis is excellent. The ailing half of our team is on the mend; the caretaking half is catching up on rest; and we’re both looking forward to a bright summer full of gratitude.
To kick that off, we’re thrilled to release our 36th issue of MoonPark Review. 13 new prose pieces to fill the long days. As a preview, here is the Issue 36 found poem, one line taken from each piece.
This is how we become strangers–
we go about changing the narrative,
deny the longing,
the belief that you are saving the world.
All the signs had been there—
a serious but futile attempt
to clean the whole system out.
It changed constantly—
that old horrorshow,
the light at the end of the tunnel,
spilling white noise,
in full clown regalia,
betrayed but not surprised.
We couldn’t be prouder to bring this new issue to you.
Happy Solstice!
Mary Lynn & Lesley Weston-Reed
MoonPark Review 