Category: Nonfiction

protostar

jael jean I was inside of my mind the other day. Saw my late father smack Sawyer upside the head. Saw my older brother retreat further behind his ribcage. There were times that he bared it—cleaved...

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Dios le pague

Anna María del Pilar Suben Corto, calvo, tuco. En San Salvador era mecánico; trabajaba en tornos. Eso decía su cédula de los 70s. No sabe su nombre. Dice que lo olvida.1 I read him his name from...

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Finding Home – Yoga and Veterans

John Farrell Kelly A melody emerges in the darkness. My spirit slowly surfaces, and my mind gently moves and stretches. I quietly state, “Siri, stop.” I open my eyes, turn to my side, and tap my...

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Island of Flowers and Marble

Denise Magloire The sound of drops crashing against the window fills the room until they are masked by the cries of a newborn. His lungs fill up with air, his fists tightly clenched, and his eyes...

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Long Division

Cole Pragides At dawn, my grandfather’s eyes are enveloped in silver mist. Burning atmospheres as he looks around his backyard of small effigies. Around us: dented tins, scarred lacquer, gouged wax...

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Santa Carola y su Corolla

Alexandra Clemente Perez Carola looks through the windshield of her golden Corolla. There is a green Chevy pick-up staring straight at her. My mother Carola, my husband, and I are on one end; our...

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home

Nafisa Nazir A lifetime of broken plates and bruised knuckles will chase you out of your cradle before the typhoon does.  I don’t remember the day I left well, only all that came after. I remember...

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Soft Grids, Long Distance

Julia Talen Julia Kooi Talen is an essayist and poet based in the midwest where she teaches creative writing and composition. Currently a PhD candidate in creative writing, Talen lives with their...

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The Science of Hoarding

Annabel Li On the dirt-beige sofa, Dad lies across the crooks of cushions like an em-dash, surrounded by a Jenga of student theses and chemical engineering textbooks, a royal blue cookie tin holding...

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Of These Maypops Blooming

LaTanya McQueen As the boy he was, a child who loved and was loved, and if only they’d seen him as this and not whatever it was they saw instead to warrant what they believed, maybe then they would...

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