Tag: 41.2

Swampmeat

Poetry Josh Fomon

In the current cycle of this hollow

ground there is a spring

where you hide blue

and in the mud. ...

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Driving Home Through Virginia

Poetry Adam Day

Black-backed, black-masked cardinal

burning on a branch. Season of ice: sense that nothing

is quite solid –...

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You’ll See My Design Inside a Lemon

Poetry Julia Cohen

You leave marks in

the dirt & that’s my pattern, ants

swarming a cut potato...

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From the Other End of the Speculum

Nonfiction Sharon DeBartolo Carmack

Dr. Sweeney had summoned Coroner Edmund Rawson to Mrs. Bird’s boarding house because Eliza was in a “dying state.” Dr. Sweeney told him that...

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This Town

Nonfiction Bret Schulte

When we arrived at Boys Town, we all saw what we wanted to see. I noted that the church was old and stone and shaped like a crucifix the way I liked it....

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A Test for Safe Zones

Poetry Anne Cecelia Holmes

The first thing is how to rescue.

How to be less damaged but damaged enough to seem fair.

A favored method is never use your hands for anything....

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My year with flowers, unshrinking

Poetry Anne Marie Rooney

Our expenses were expansive, like, excuse me, we'd better

have it: gold wallops, white eggs, even the sterling shone

over-basket. Got water? It...

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The Children’s Crusade

Poetry Joshua Kryah

Childhood is a lie. Ask anyone. Floods appear

to make us thirsty. But floods do not exist......

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Hallucinations Brought on by Inclement Weather

This township is buried in a fogged stupor, houses stair-stepped up and down wet paved streets. A township of hills that This Son and That Son ride their bicycles through, rampant with slick tires...

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I WAS NOT EVEN BORN WHEN YOU TURNED ME INTO A BABY

I was a little glob of lush circumstance. You dressed me up in snow and holy emergency. I pointed at a record player and called it my father. I pointed at a harbor and called it my mother. But you...

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