Category: Features

Funerals

Robert Bausch “…Anything makes me laugh, I misbehaved once at a funeral.” –Charles Lamb He could hear the people in the church praying. So many voices carried a long way and he could...

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Landscape Where I Forget My Father

Jennie Malboeuf The four corners of my eyeline are rich with distraction. An aquarium, a library, a fun park, a creek. In this scene, a shrike crosses the sky, spears a frog on some barb for later....

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Monkey Treachery

Larissa Szporluk Maybe I had a baby with my father. Maybe I’m lying. Maybe I wish  I had a father, then a baby, then another baby, then a break—  what use is a child, or a finger? If we had...

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Rapture

Mary Jo Amani Pay careful attention lest with all the fluctuations of thoughts the greening power which you have from God dries up in you. ­—Hildegard von Bingen writing to an Abbot 1 I bought an...

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Warming

From Issue 39.2 Janann Dawkins The chlorophyll remains in leaf: the limbsretain their hair: the trees do not believethe sun will set on them. They think the filmof heat is normal—that it will...

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Renegades (for Evelyn Thorne)

From Issue 1.1 (Spring 1972) Jim Everhard In the darkness the moon opensand there is nothing but lightin the twists of its mind,the unthought of dreamsof dead men bending back toward the...

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Virginia Is Not Your Home

Jocelyn Johnson They hung that name on you at birth, but Virginia was never your home. Read Nausea by Sartre and give yourself a new one. Trumpet your new name to the liver-spotted washroom mirror,...

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Hold On, Just So

Shelley Wood I met Suki in my life-drawing class, back when she’d already quit her job and had all that other shit happen, but still had both boobs. I figured she was working on improving herself...

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manifesto for the bones of a blue whale suspended from the ceiling

Kathryne David Gargano the boy says: devils cannot move human semen locally! he cries it in the streets, flogging his papers / so sensational, this boy— he forgets so earnestly the way women are...

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Gravedigger

From Issue 7.3 Ed Lynskey Call me a gravedigger.By night I shovel themoist moments awaytill the empty depthcan hold my heart, my injured heart.Still she lies like a smirking shadowin the bottom of...

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