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FWR Monthly: August 2015

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The idea of voice has been hot on my mind lately. I think the ongoing work of folks like Amanda Johnston (one of the founders of Black Poets Speak Out)…

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FWR Monthly: July 2015

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For this installment of our new monthly “mini-issues,” I wanted to present a small folio on a genre which seems to gain more and more attention, particularly among poets — the “photo-essay.”

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FAILURE by Glen Pourciau

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I’d been holed up with a new project, and it seemed time to get out and breathe some fresh air and talk to people, an outcome that the solitary nature of my work sometimes led me to desire…

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TWO POEMS by Corey Van Landingham

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VIEW POINT, SAN ANDREAS FAULT

From here, I see the up-thrust of collision,
how the Indio Hills have changed

through time. In a year, the sign says…

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FWR Monthly: May 2015

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Starting this spring, we’ll be sending our subscribers monthly “mini-issues,” each one edited by different members of our staff. We see these monthlies as a chance to showcase more great work, and explore…

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TWO AMERICAS, TWO POETICS by Kate DeBolt

79 ny. Saltstrømmen. Stereoskop.

On November 24, 2014, my Facebook News Feed forked: all at once I was reading two wholly different kinds of perspective, like dispatches from parallel dimensions. I remember because I was laid up for days with a fever-dream flu…

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LINE DRAWINGS by Weston Cutter

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dear salt dear water scribbling difference between where
I can dryly stand+not dear sea dear shell dear Florida
from your panhandle I’m staring past seagulls flit
+scurrying across sand…

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STEPHANIE SAYS by Alain Douglas Park

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A woman stands alone in the surf. She’s up to her mid-thighs in the water, warm Gulf of Mexico water, and she can feel the strong undertow of the sea. It pulls her legs and sucks the sand from under her feet. It’s tremendous—this undertow—a force of nature—powerful. But, she’s determined to stand in it. So, she does.

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Between the Lines: An Interview with Benjamin Miller

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  In this installment of “Between the Lines,” Dustin Pearson talks with Benjamin Miller about journeys through the desert, words as objects, and poetic self-interrogation.

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ORIGIN OF GLASS by Marcelo Hernandez Castillo

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 it is winter again as we feel our way through
a bed of glass in the river
     we’ve been here before
     everything’s the same
     still the morning
still the pieces of glass
 we pile in the image of a child and praise…

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The Burning by Peace Adzo Medie

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The potholes in the road were filled with muddy water because it had rained the night before. Some of the holes, jagged around the edges, were the size of mini craters and every time we reached one, we stomped our feet in it and sloshed the brown water on each other. We roared in excitement…

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Three Poems by Benjamin Miller

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      IN THE PLACE OF BEST INTENTIONS

As this is not the land of ice packs
and regenerations, of spent glue guns

or antiseptic counters—since shy
reminders filter through the streets…

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