Why phoebe Takes a Summer Break and You Should Too

Temperatures are climbing in our hometown of Fairfax, Virginia, and the drone of our local brood of 17-year cicadas is so loud that we can hear it inside, fan running, windows closed. We’ve held...

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Traversing Languages, Genres, Cultures: An Interview with Ye Chun

Ana Pugatch Ye Chun is a bilingual Chinese American author and translator. Her stunning poetry and prose meditate on the power of language, the dichotomy of othering/loneliness, and navigating two...

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From the Room: A Farewell from Editor-in-Chief Melissa Wade

“Goodbyes always make my throat hurt. I need more hellos.” Charlie Brown When it comes to personal notes like this, I tend to think that someone else has already expressed how I feel better than...

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50.2

2021 Spring Fiction Contest Winner The Light. Breathing by Gregg Maxwell Parker   2021 Spring Nonfiction Contest Winner Welcome to Bad Mom Club by Marne Litfin   2021 Greg Grummer Poetry Prize...

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Deep Fried Poems

Nora Claire Miller Deep Friend Poem #63 Deep Fried Poem #64 Nora Claire Miller is a poet from New York City. Nora’s chapbook, LULL (2020), was the winner of the 2019 Ghost Proposal Chapbook...

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On Stalking The Apostle Paul

Heikki Huotari Heikki Huotari in a past century attended a one-room school and spent summers on a forest-fire lookout tower. He’s a retired math professor and has published poems in numerous...

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An Ode Derailed

Cady Favazzo O, Grape-Nuts!                 or more                  truthfully:                                   the store brand:                    ...

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HELLO

Luciana Arbus-Scandiffio With my dress made of picnic blankets I set out for the tundra. I put on my clogs,my suit of gathered hairs. The coins collect in the crags outside and I collect...

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The Greyhound in Repose

John Dudek It’s true you didn’t do this, didn’t breed in the long limb and overbuilt joints that deny the hardwood any give, that fold the dog like a yarn swift. It was built not for comfort...

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Fruit

Jen Stewart Fueston When this began, you dreamedI owned a clay bowl & I told you how at night,the glow of the kitchen apples meant something to me like desire,their scarlet skins spent in a...

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