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BROWNING UP NICELY by S.M. Brodie

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The 1970’s were full of firsts for many people. Richard Nixon became the first president to resign from office. Raul Castro became the first Latino to hold the office of Governor in the great State of Arizona.

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TWO POEMS by Marlin M. Jenkins

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DRINKING GAME

When the pastor spits
while sputtering any
variation of God’s name.

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FIVE STORIES by Karen Brennan

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THE CORPSE AND ITS ADMIRERS
The coffin is grey with gold curlicues at the corners, at each of the four corners, although we only see two from where we are sitting with our mother.

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TWO POEMS by Tyree Daye

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SAME OAKS, SAME YEAR
My cousin kept me and his little brother saved me from our uncle’s pit bull, then spent seven years in prison for his set. Every other word he said was blood.

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PUSHCART NOMINEES

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We’re proud to announce our 2017 Pushcart Prize nominees!

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CITIZEN by Tariq al Haydar

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Enter the ministry through the main gate (not the women’s entrance), on Olaya Street: Memorize the number on your ID card (#1072049285). Vote in the municipal elections, , so that the world may see you and celebrate the act

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CREATION by Gerardo Pacheco Matus

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They made me with bones,
white, yellow, brown & dusty bones,
heavy & hollow, broken & shuttered,

they made me with bones
no one has ever claimed,
bones no one will ever bury…

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ARGUMENT FOR LOVING FROM A DISTANCE by Katie Condon

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Raining this morning & the foothills are dusted
with the gray light that comes with bad weather…

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SELF-PORTRAIT AS HAN TO LEIA, ON HOTH by Amorak Huey

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Another planet battle-scored & near-exterminated: we crave this cave-chase & escape plan, our evacuation inevitable. We have always been outnumbered & every system is remote from somewhere…

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PIVOT by Wendy J Fox

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  In the office, coworkers Sabine and Michael sat quietly at their cubicles. In the office, there was flux. For example, sometimes the temperature waffled between tropical and arctic…

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TWO POEMS by Sally Wen Mao

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MUTANT ODALISQUE
This is not an ode. February’s ice razor scalps the gingko trees, their hair pulled skyward like the ombre roots of young women…

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THE LUNGFISH by Michelle Gillett

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Deep down inside, I am afraid of the lungfish
suspended in its tank in the darkened room
meant to emulate time when desert was ocean

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