Latest Writing
POETRY
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CLIMATE-CONTROLLED by Marielle Prince
They’ve given me a window. Now I don’t need the umbrellas collapsed under the coat rack to tell me about the rain, and the jackets I’ve come to know on hangers leave on shoulders, bunch out on lunch breaks, file home at the end of the day. I stay. The janitor makes his last pass,…
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SUPERNOVA by Victoria McArtor
A star unhooks because when light and lonely both want you, one might not get his way. From the urge to trap the body into routine, I’ve named each of the white birds déjà vu. Stop flinching already.
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ROBIN’S EGG by Keith Leonard
This blue-green robin’s egg cracked, now, and left in the porch nest—impossibly light in my palm. Somehow the chick knew to press its beak against the egg’s surrounding walls. In darkness, it must have followed sound—the thunder clap, its mother’s song, the dog—each driving its first and final fissure of the shell. But how did…
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