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  • Nonfiction > All Nonfiction
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    Fame can be boiled down to several simple ingredients. Looks, image, and a few cups of luck seem to be written on every page of the Superstar Cookbook. Unfortunately, some of the things half-baked celebrities lack—like personality, character, and talent—are the most essential. However, this is n...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    He comes in late, sweating nostalgia in smooth beads of salt. Pulls up a chair at the table and eases into its wooden embrace, runs his fingers through his receding hair. The long instruments pull at it – a nervous habit – and it’s a wonder that so much of it remains. Those fingers remember, t...
  • Nonfiction > Personal Experience
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    Three teenage girls are cutting apart newspapers--in a public library, no less. It doesn’t stop there, either. After being clipped, the dismantled papers are subjected to pens, markers, and some very critical eyes. What on earth does the librarian have to say about this? She doesn’t mind. In...
  • Fiction > Romance
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    He comes in late, sweating nostalgia in smooth beads of salt. Pulls up a chair at the table and eases into its wooden embrace, runs his fingers through his receding hair. The long instruments pull at it—a nervous habit—and it’s a wonder that so much of it remains. Those fingers remember, thoug...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    She swallows her pride and descends in twirling circles, coming down from the pearly gates, head still spinning from heaven itself. He watches her come and waits with jittery anticipation, bouncing up towards the pearly gates, head spinning towards heaven itself. She skitters and...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    It’s so weird seeing your face again. It’s been so, so long. Too long. We’ve grown up. We’ve grown apart. I try not to stare. You look exactly the same— pretty as ever— well, almost. Your hair is lighter than I remember. Did you dye it? Your eyes are sadder, too. You’r...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Alio mundi, I am smart enough to see when sparks are flying. I am smart enough to only swear in dead languages, like Latin, which I speak. Alio mundi, unfortunately for me, you understand my foreign foul mouth, and you laugh until I crack up, too, and have to wrap my arms around my ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I wrote you a poem. On October 24th, 2009, in 42 lines, I said I loved you. I wonder why I never gave you that poem, and never told you in person. Maybe if I had, I wouldn't be sitting here alone, in our spot, on the cliffs edging the lake. I carved our initials here, once upon...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    A week ago the sign on the metal gate said “No admittance after dark.” A week ago, I'd have listened. Tonight, though, no one keeps me out. There was no lock, so I stole inside like death himself. In the semi-dark of twilight, I can see my reflection mirrored a hundred times in blac...

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