Latest Writing
POETRY
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HOW I by Melissa Stein
Stupidly. Like a dog, like drought flood, like a vole the hawk lifts screaming to its first and last panoramic. Each want sired want and I was drowning in it— but kept my head just enough above the choking to choke more. A dog, I said, or rat pressing lever unto death. May we all…
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LAMBING by George Kalamaras
Time was too long each winter. Each spring death clung to our tongue. Just below it milled failure and success: lambing seasons that arrived to survive, the job that finally paid, the art of making love even when we felt less than whole…
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THREE POEMS by Caroline M. Mar
THE RAY it lay there, flopping, fish-out-of-water and my heart trembled on the curb the usual fisherman’s talesa woman onlooker upset, that’s animal cruelty flapping in air, fingers hooked to its spiracles as its mouth gaped and shut
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