
First Week of July Writing, Reading, Joining, Quitting
Featured image by Tonya Boles
Read More…reading and writing a life
Featured image by Tonya Boles
Read More…Imagine a room with pine plank floors and inset shelves painted a lush white, nine feet tall, three feet wide, six inches apart, running the length of a room on either side of a broad picture window. On each shelf there are of course well used books from every era of modern literature, spines of […]
Read More…So many reviews call this book shattering, I would call it just the opposite. This story picks up the broken shards of lost stories and puts together a contemporary explanation of what happens when the past is forgotten just enough to haunt. With multiple characters speaking across the city of Oakland, Tommy Orange weaves together […]
Read More…1. Tonight so clear the Milky Way shimmers like a stoked furnace, the scattered stars like rogue embers deep in a bloomery. I recall my father’s face, the orange light of the wood stove imprisoned in his skin, his eyes trapping the firelight until he’d lobbed and poked the pine logs, then shut and latched […]
Read More…I wanted first to end up as a drunk in the gutter and in my twenties I almost ended up there— and then as an alternative to vodka, to live alone like a hermit philosopher and court the extreme poverty that I suspected lay in store for me anyway— and then there were the years […]
Read More…Every few nights I walk over here, screen door opened And springless, leaves now up to the second step, No one watching out the window but me with my elbows On the ledge, my face staring back at my staring in. What if, all along, I’d been waiting in there? What if The bird left […]
Read More…Be nobody’s darling; Be an outcast. Take the contradictions Of your life And wrap around You like a shawl, To parry stones To keep you warm. Watch the people succumb To madness With ample cheer; Let them look askance at you And you askance reply. Be an outcast; Be pleased to walk alone (Uncool) Or […]
Read More…This Rain brings with it the scent of rain-soaked lilac, lemon lily. Bruised skirts of thunderclouds drop their wet hems over this prairie. It rains and the ditches brim, rains and the water rises like ire amongst the willows. What we say and do not say. The heart incandescent, riverine with distance. *** lilt […]
Read More…waking up like a needle in a haystack afraid to be found and if found to make nothing more than a stitch in water but even so the unimaginable ripple might touch the tongue of a passing deer who has bent to drink so long and so deeply I forget my fear and become the […]
Read More…If you believe in snow, you have to believe in water as it’s meant to be, loosed from clouds arranged like asphodel. Because that’s what it’s like to come back: a slow surfacing, memory spiraling away. You can sleep so long, whole seasons are forgotten like a hospital-room plaster, spidered with cracks in Portugal shapes. […]
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