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  • Nonfiction > Memoir
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    There are certain events in every life that happen with stunning destiny. Lovers meeting, for instance—two strangers laughing over spilled drinks in a bar somewhere in rural Greece. A book with a forgotten twenty dollar bill tucked in its pages tumbling off the shelf and falling open at a patron...
  • Nonfiction > Memoir
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    It thundered over me when I was six years old, writhing and insistent. These labor pains, for lack of a better term, compelled me to grab a spare piece of paper from my bedside table and cast around for a pencil. As soon as I began to write, my thoughts erupted onto the page, shocking me with the...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Girl No. 1 wears her jeans cuffed and hates everyone but the Jets. Her voice is honey-thick around grim words. Smiling does not come easy to her. She wears her face like a mask—big glasses, big eyes, big quiet. When I see her, she lifts her hand in a wave, delta creases in her brown palm. Her ex...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    i. Here, there is sand in your mouths when you kiss. Sweat and long hair. A shared water bottle glinting in her hands. She finds a succulent plant and slices it open, drawing her finger through the clear gelatinous discharge it bleeds. She touches that finger to her cheek and glistens heavenly. Yo...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    We stand at a funeral, hand in hand, under a sky bleeding glorious light. The year is dying but we are here to remember. To celebrate and to cherish. To laugh and sob, reverently, as one. We stand circular around a cavernous well, and in this well, we place bouquets of memories. ...
  • Hot Topics > Health
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    Listen: You cannot give back what you stole from yourself. You can’t feed your body the things you denied it while it was quivering beneath the whip of your merciless, perfectionist dysmorphia, or erase the scars you’ve carved into it, or stroke it tenderly all those times you wished you cou...
  • Nonfiction > Memoir
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    Summer. Summer of losing control. Summer of giving up words because my foggy despair has been too much for thinking or writing about the bursting maple leaves or flush of clouds overhead or the thunder of loving and being loved. Summer of hunger. Summer of scrutiny in front of every mirror, dead...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    combustible is the feeling streaming inside you: a rose rolled up in a bloated tidal wave amniotic, aglow it tastes like gold and fury like the atomic composition of a dying star there is dedication there an extraterrestrial fervor of love which persists as tirelessly as our dear moo...
  • Hot Topics > Pride & Prejudice
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    Like every person on the planet, I am a lot of things. I’m female. I’m a teenager. I’m an avid star-gazer. I’m obsessed with miniature cacti. I’m a poet. I’m sarcastic. I’m weirdly good at opening lids. I’m an empath. I’m a survivor. I’m vulnerable and tenacious and iridescent....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I write for people who have not made it out of the dark yet I write for girls and boys and everyone burning between I write for those with gardens of pain bursting in their lungs, for everyone so tenderhearted they quiver at the red wilderness of splendor and absurdity around us I writ...
  • Nonfiction > Memoir
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    18, and the first line of my journal emerges like a rebellious blush, longing and delinquent. It sits in its designated place with blue ink honesty that terrifies that breath out of me. I must keep writing. I must push away from my confession. I must ignore the panic rolling in my chest. Love, in ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    There are things we come back to: People we can’t stop loving. Places that sing and sigh. Words gritty and livening inside our mouths. Songs that shake us out of our indifference, make us feel. Those little coffee shops rattling with charming oddities. Stories of scares that turned out to be e...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    with time we'll grow accustomed to the sweet sting of this cyclical Life which writes and erases flies and falls stops and starts flares and extinguishes inhales and exhales gives and takes fails and flourishes lives and ends as we grapple in the middle of it looking for normal while ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I stand in it: The streets The people The face-blurring shoe-smacking heart-knocking symphony of thousands, full and explosive as a swarm of grenades and I am overwhelmed, overwhelmed, by the divinity of our overlap...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    It’s so minuscule – this interval, this growing up You fool yourself into believing it won’t ever end, as if you could turn it back to the beginning like a radio dial and let that hot pink rapture pour over you again and always but eventually it comes t...
  • Nonfiction > All Nonfiction
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    i. Allow yourself to be clichéd. Forgive yourself the comparison to phenomena like stars, tsunamis, volcanoes, and the end of the world.  There is no shame in depicting the galaxies you see in your irises or the seas crashing in your lungs. Don’t for a minute diminish your words because you...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I said you are the purple veins of an orchid quickening footsteps mist clinging to pines the dip in the waltz a geode cleaved in two tunnels thrumming their pulse hitched breath lungfuls of winter wind the dusty burn of smoke two streets over an invasion of fireflies fields with moonlig...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    When your youthful command of language is not enough to convey what swings its jaws inside you, when you stand pulling from your shelf volumes written by the great and inimitable – names that inspire centuries of admiration, minds that managed what you cannot, their icy clarit...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    May it always feel like this, May it be electricity that streams through everything with blood-rocking sweetness, May it never stop filling me with what I cannot for the life of me put into words: that clear and soft thing, that gasping blooming thing, that glow in the deep deep core of m...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    This is for a girl whose name means light, Who fights every day of her life to beat the gravity of depression, Whose dearest pastime is turning everyone she encounters to poetry, Who’s never stopped looking for fairies or shaking glitter over everything, Who is tall in the flesh and tall in ...
  • Hot Topics > Pride & Prejudice
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    Perhaps an introduction is in order.   We are fields of graves, bone-dust lying soft beneath the earth, footnotes in the annals of history. We are housewives, warriors, mothers, witches, healers, poets, inventors, philosophers, seekers, servants, royalty. We are young and old and mid...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Joyful, grotesque, honest, impulsive, pure; A stab at immortality, addiction, A love letter, an autobiography, A way to say what cannot be said aloud, A political statement, A source of breathless beauty in a failing world, A revolution, a declaration of ten thousand hidden truths, A pie...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Joyful, grotesque, honest, impulsive, pure; A stab at immortality, addiction, A love letter, an autobiography, A way to say what cannot be said aloud, A political statement, A source of breathless beauty in a failing world, A revolution, a declaration of ten thousand hidden truths, A pie...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Their vehemence. Their fire. Their beauty. Their clenching, unclenching. Their bedlam. Their silence. Their toes squirming in their shoes. Their sobs. Their seventy-mile-an-hour fury. Their eyes. Their glimmer. Their construction paper dreams. Their insecurities. Their melanin. Their rapture...
  • Nonfiction > Personal Experience
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    i. I live in pursuit of exposure, soul-baring, the practice of being what we are without apology. Every person is different. No one else carries our specific memories or desires. No body is formed exactly like ours. We play at oneness, but shared experience only stretches so far. In the end, we a...

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