How foreign-delicacy we must look
So glittering-feast for silver handcuffs like fish hooks
On the fishing lines of Met police
Our fleshy white meat
Scattered like bait in the woods
We all clenched-jaw, shark-teeth keys now
Double rows of razor-sharp between knuckles
Dragged up on the dock and weighed
Price gouged for market
Fish-eye frozen on a casket of ice
What do we taste like?
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How can you describe a place called Dottie a land of statistics, a land of probability a country rooted in elegant traditions traffic running wild, traffic running widdershins green terrain shutting down completely perchance of rain confounding new arrivals with postings and signs, signs shedding slogans, making promises directing the journey
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Gracy Boes is a recent college graduate with a degree in creative writing from North Central University in Minneapolis, MN. Her work appeared twice in their literary magazine, The Wineskin. Post-grad she is staying in the Twin Cities frantically seeking a purpose that will also pay the bills. When she isn’t working or writing you can […]
Read more "Your Mother’s Love was Not a Sign from God"
KG Newman is a 2012 Arizona State University graduate and sports writer for The Denver Post. His first two poetry collections, While Dreaming of Diamonds in Wintertime and Selfish Never Get Their Own, are available on Amazon. Clear Head We cancel our cells and cable just in time for summer and only keep the home […]
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Tom Mock‘s short fiction has been nominated for a 2018 Pushcart Prize, selected as a finalist in the 2012 Press 53 awards, and published by Menacing Hedge. Reservoir As you drift home in the dead of night in the back of a black cab, the road is as spare as the open ocean. It rises […]
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I was looking at an old Moleskine and came across a “2 Line Journal” project I had done for June 2011. It looks like I wrote two sentences each day starting on the 5th, or that was the goal. I was in Maryland helping my family because my father had contracted life-threatening MRSA and was […]
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When I told my mom I’d decided to leave Paris and by extension the Louvre, the Canal St. Martin, the Marais, the amazing Chinese place with one-euro appetizers (carmelized lotus root! spicy green beans!) and move back to damp Normandy, she was not convinced. “Why would you want to leave Paris?” she asked, as though […]
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I have been camping in my house for a week. This sounds strange when I say it to people. They ask, to clarify, if I’ve moved back into my house. Like every question this year, the answer is complicated, full of footnotes and asides and more questions—“did I tell you…?” “Did you know that…?” “Well, […]
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Dear Tucson, You’re probably wondering why I didn’t say goodbye. You’re probably upset, and I understand how you would feel that way. If you step back from your raw emotion, however, I think that you’ll start to see the rivets in our lives that led us here. We weren’t happy, Tucson. Not together. I know […]
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I sat waiting for my lunch to be ready. Closing my eyes, the sun warming me, honing in on nearby conversations. “It was just awful!” “Do you want to meet later?” “We have to get back soon.” “What are you hungry for?” And then, “Think of a Chinese word you’d like to see written.” Two […]
Read more "Characterized As Vulnerable"