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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    In truth, I love to bake in the kitchen where I supposedly belong as archetypical mother figure curing the world with her flour, her sugar, her eggs, add yeast like hope to rise and pray that nothing catches fire this time. I am pink haired baker lady. I am orange frizz, feathers in my fu...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Once upon a time, there were three close friends and one had a story in her head. She clung to feathers like they were rosaries and while one friend made a deal with the stars, the other got lost in them, climbing so high that her head extended, balloon-like, into the atmosphere and she floated aw...
  • Fiction > Sci-fi/Fantasy
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    The Visitor The pink press of a nose tickles my palm and the kitten sighs. It looks up at me with tattered marble eyes and I ask it, “What are you thinking?” The scientists watch with raised eyebrows. They are skeptical. They think nothing will come of speaking to a magical marvle of existan...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I. A fire ignites gladdly on the stove, tea kettle pealing frantically while salt and canola oil singe away the ceiling and ascend. II. A strange, red fabric pools in the sky, offers billows of smoke to fill a white balloon. III. A sudden wave of heat is nothing more than the train of a...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    You are an owl without wisdom. I am a dragon, no wings. You are a sweet blaze of citrus. I am a crisp jasmine breeze. You leave the beach free of footprints. I leave trenches where I dance. You are the lowering ear tufts. I am the wild beast's jaw....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    never forget faces but I do. Every day I spend exploring the arms of a tree, the rhythm, rhyme, and bend of a blade of grass marks a memory formed, a memory lost. Why do I so often trade people for scenery? A stroll in the country cost only a childhood friend....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    From the distant shores of the Far East, there is an emptiness within my head as, searching through the past, I slice my hand on shards of brumal days and wasted youth. I wrap it in cold words and inky keys, stained fabric of a story, of a poem, of hiding in the shadow of a scream for nine ...
  • Fiction > Sci-fi/Fantasy
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    A girl watches me through unbelievably thick fog. She says, “I know what it's like to be dead.” I clench my fists. Of all people, I wish she hadn't chosen me to impart that revelation upon. “Do you?” I implore. “Do you really? Because I do, and I assure you, death is a feeling...
  • Poetry > Haiku
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    A rose is crushed by the same dark hands that folded paper cranes and shared hot mugs of tea with me in hospital chambers the year I got ill. A rose is crushed near the isolated corner of a county park. A crow dips his beak in a pond there, slick green film rising over the cup...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    We are like African termites, Macrotermes bellicosus, ever reaching, building structures that stretch to the highest points at the top of the sky. There we blow our kisses to the gods. We are millions upon millions of micro-individuals immersing ourselves in clusters, crowds, compani...
  • Poetry > Song Lyrics
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    I am standing about three stories up. I am placing my hand on the window pane watching smoking skies. They are such pretty skies. You're behind me, a knife digging through your skin digging scars, digging scars into your skin. “This is all your fault!” You say, “this is all your fa...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    There is an emptiness within my head as, watching childhood, I slice my hand on shards of brumal days and wasted youth. I wrap it in cold words and inky keys, stained fabric of a story, of a poem, of hiding in the shadow of a scream for nine years, ten. Up until seventeen I sang soprano, th...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    On a chill spring morning I taste coffee stirred by wind, wind that tugs at my blouse asking to play, sends rivers of air careening over my skin, sends limping, shedding dog into a fury with envelopes of scent. Wind touches my coffee and stirs it again with bits of chocolate fur that I st...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Snow falls to the ground in lonely clumps March into April into May with the East Coast reaching longingly into white crystal layers of frost upon frost upon seed. April showers should sprout flowers, but April snow lends only cold fronts to kill my baby violets. I clutch them— britt...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    A spindly silver thread caught in the air, caught in a net of straw. A spindle—a tickle of wire in palm. Wire is silk. Silk is thread is soft is spindly silver. Silver is flame. Flame like a silver thread. A speck on my wish-cream cheek, a stretch in my brain. They told me that...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I clean my house my house I clean my mouth with soapy bubbles forming on my cheek. Alliteration leaves my house my pen— my pen, it leaves my mouth my mouth again...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    Oh good, I thought I'd find you here. Staring at a blank page again? Well, I'm just here to make sure you haven't lost your touch. Where did I hear something like that? Well, you must have known there were rumors, it was paper itself that started them. You aren't really thinking of quitt...
  • Poetry > Haiku
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    I would really hate to have to get to know you in a perfect world....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    When I start spinning, the world goes quiet, like it drops away or gets pushed to the edge of a perimeter beyond which is only silence. Something blue flares out below my arms but I close my eyes and I close my head and for once I can't hear anything. I like that: the silence. ...
  • Nonfiction > Memoir
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    What if I've always been so strange because I was born in the wrong skin? I'm not talking gender identity wrong skin, I mean literal wrong skin. What if I was never supposed to be Emily Rose? What if I was never even supposed to be human? I imagine the feeling I used to get standing on ...
  • Hot Topics > Bullying
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    I see you not see me—these things don't sell— that look of consternation on your face. Your body judged, as mine is judged as well. You'd think we'd stand as one, but I can tell that no, we are alone. You leave in haste. I see you not see me—these things don't sell. ...
  • Hot Topics > Letters to the Editor
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    I was browsing your website when my eyes drifted to the ad at the top of the screen. Instead of the usual salamanders and vitamin water, something else caught my eye: “Warning: This game is too hot to handle. Male gamers only.” This lovely piece of literature was accompanied by a barely d...
  • Hot Topics > Letters to the Editor
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    Dear TeenInk, I was browsing your website when my eyes drifted to the ad at top of the screen. Instead of the usual salamanders and vitamin water, something else caught my eye. Warning: This game is too hot to handle. Male gamers only. This lovely piece of literature was accompanied by...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Start in the bloody waters of a sunset sea, the smell of salt and battle waves attempting to pull you under. Let them. Sink below the rabid orange foam, it is here that you will glimpse the last streaks of gold from a dying sun. The next step of your journey occurs below the horizon,...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    “Do I have roots?” Sings the snowflake as she tumbles down past midnight. “Do I have roots?” She sings, as she slips through an emerald sky. “Do I have roots?” Sings the snowflake who thinks she is a flower. “Do I have roots?” Oh no, my dear. Oh no, but you...

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