Latest Writing
POETRY
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THE KING OF LOWMANSVILLE by Christopher Prewitt
Peasant stars hanged from wires above their king, my brother, sleeping in his crib. Out of silver trim and a nail gun, the church made for him a crown of thorns
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SOMETHING HE DID by Jennifer Whitaker
On a day cold enough to remind him of home, my father, whisky-warm, dragged from the shed the kerosene heater, sending the mangy dogs to the fence line. The overfilled tank, the choke
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IN THE CAPITAL by Michael Bazzett
It is a hillside town: houses stacked like pottery on shelves. From the window you see two schoolgirls walking uphill holding books to their chests, white socks drooping in the heat. The man painting the water tank of a building across the valley has descended to the shade to eat his lunch.
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