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  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    Hazel was born Catholic, a loud lawyer girl. She was number one at the end of that year and it prompted her to want a tattoo of the word “jurisdiction” on her wrist. But now, naked and in the forest, Hazel felt like an animal instead of a lawyer. She felt no numbers under her skin, only a cold e...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    In my house, we have a plate with a lighthouse painted on it. My mother gave it to my father for Christmas. My father likes lighthouses because he is from New England. The plate was painted by a man my mother knows. That man is also from New England. Yesterday there was a shooting in New E...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    My mother has the most beautiful name in the world. It's Celilo. Apparently her parents borrowed her name from a dead waterfall that was murdered by an industrial dam. The native people fished there for thousands of years, she told me, and now no one even knows that it's there under all th...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    We were on a bus and Shea smelled like cinnamon: "Jesse?" "Yes?" (she'd been asleep on my shoulder and her wet hair was making my neck cold) "You do know that I'm a Catholic, don't you?" "No, I didn't know that. Are you a Catholic?&quo...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    We went to the woods to cut my hair, and I let Shea drive. I was too cold and my neck was stiff and my eyes felt heavy and sick. The night before, we’d stayed in a hotel together in the Gorge, intertwined all night. In two days, I would ride a bus to Seattle to start fighting the war. Today, she w...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    1. The first time he went hunting, he puked up blood all over the bushes. The bushes cradled the deer he'd just shot in the neck. On the ground, his blood and the deer's blood were the same color. The black drips just ran together on the frozen leaves and he couldn't tell which drips ...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    Blonde wife and clean husband eat a picnic, no eye contact, with a strict line down the middle of the blanket: his side and her side. Blonde wife is primary colors with yellow hair, red lips, blue dress. Clean husbands glistens, pink-faced with fat little cheeks that boyishly whisper "I can tak...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    Throat too sore from breathing in the rain. In fact, it feels like I’ve swallowed a bunch of broken teeth. “Leave already, mother, something needs to happen.” Luggage stacked in rows like body bags on TV. But no American Flags for us, we don’t even know our own names. “Bathing suits,...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    Evangeline walks in a line that is not straight enough to be good. By day, Evangeline has been the white-toothed daughter that melts the winter. By night, Evangeline has blackened her cheeks with the soot-thick circles of doubt. Evangeline wakes sore and sick and even after the face-painting a...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    My father was born in a white house. All night I wish I was less and more, less and more. His house had two porches. All day I go places to survive, to find. He had three sisters; two were dark like him. But I never get to run and my bones are getting soft. Now they take care of him by saving ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    If you looked at my naked back Long enough and hard enough You could probably find the answers to a lot of questions. They probably wouldn't be right answers And you probably couldn't apply them to anything in your life But you would at least find them And tell me that they are...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    1. "Nora, what would happen if I lit this match and put it near your arm? Would you ignite? Would the match go out? Nora, I bet your ashes would be snow white. I bet I could convince someone that they were baking flour and then they'd make you into a dessert to bring to their book club.&qu...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    This is the hotel where, one year ago, Beverly Cicero was sliced open for protesting a war I fought in. It is a place I do not know, this hotel, but when I left home late last night I knew I was coming here. I found it by driving fast and hard; I pretended she was chasing me. I pictured her red hair...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    “Do you want to know why war is so good for business?” he asked her in his plastic voice. He was big and bright, a walking advertisement. She was small and wealthy, a reluctant apex predator. He was her father and though he was older he was much less wrinkled than she. A lot fewer things bothere...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    Feigned youth on the floor, feigned vitality of the legs and arms, feigned hope for appealing ever. Big feelings about the texture of human skin, big problems about the colors of human bones. Heavy eyelashes and lips, heavy ribcage, heavy spine. I seem temporary, I seem makeshift, I seem peris...
  • Reviews > Book Reviews
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    We will go to the premiere of the new "Gatsby" film dressed as the characters and I, the dark and rough one, will ironically inhabit the blue-and-blonde china husk of Daisy. Everyone else will be appropriately cast. He really is Gatsby, I think. He holds onto things dangerously, just as Ga...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Eight to ten witches (approximately) come to Oregon to turn their fingers and tongues together under a forest that is ashamed of everyone else with fingers and teeth full of gold and silver. That dark gray forest is an elitist, bearded entity, veiled by the hanging tears of the life that hears n...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    You have the loudest ribcage I’ve ever heard. It’s an eclectic atrocity they sewed for you with their needle fingers, both a punishment for breathing too loud during your confirmation and a reward for breathing at all, Since your lungs are framed and fenced with stained glass splinters and ma...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    My blood feels wrong, worse because I am in a moving car. I feel like I did in the pre-Celexa period, like I was prematurely decomposing on the inside. I'm back to the worst. The fear will prevent me from graduating, loving, leaving my bed. I will turn pale and thinner. I will wither and crack....
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    In a beautiful church, a beautiful father and daughter sit side by side, both hungover, with splendid dark colors under their eyes. The daughter is a touchable sapling birch. Thin and resilient, the stained glass windows tint her creamy form with sudden red and purple shapes. The father is a rough n...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    On Friday, I was alone all day and my mouth tasted wrong and my heartbeat kept changing meters and everything hurt. The world got so small and dark that every time I looked in the mirror it floated in front of my eye and disguised itself as one of my pupils. I ate seven satsuma oranges. I forced...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    The dream about the bathtub was fast and hard. She would undress and turn on the water. She'd fold herself up in different ways inside the tub until she felt pretty. The water pounding down from the spicket sounded like it was yelling at her to try again, arrange her limbs differently, change t...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    1. When she was my age, my mother had a boyfriend who broke her leg. Later, after she'd married my father, he sent her an apology letter. He was in the army, learning how to hurt people in more sophisticated, innovative ways. 2. My father has never owned a gun. Once he bought a BB gun to kill th...
  • Art /
    Photo > Photographs
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  • Art /
    Photo > Photographs

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