Writing is an act of resistance
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Why Poets Aren’t on TV
By Tori Cárdenas Poets aren’t on TV because they cry when they are asked about their feelings. Poets are messy. Poets will tell it like it is. They will tweeze out the words you meant from an argument & divinate the heart of you by casting your dry fingerbones. Poets are easily distracted. They…
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Judging Silence
By Sheila Ewers Of course he covered her mouth. Denying her voice, he could write the story. We girls learn early that what remains unspoken Remains Unreal. How else could we survive? And when she swallowed her scream (as we all do) it took the words with it lodging them into the very parts…
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Removal
By David Gershan “The problem started when anger itself became criminalized,” he explained behind surgical goggles. “The original purpose of the neural implants was to stymie physical aggression. The focus was on prevention—punishment and rehabilitation became less, well, fashionable.” He turned his head and pointed to the hairless, jagged scar just above his occipital…
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PTSD Pantoum
By Jean Waggoner Me and Apple were out on patrol…. Each story begins with a line like this, the travesty of its grammar a buddy thing for the philosopher-boy turned to grunt. Each story begins with a line like this, a breath-stopping return to war for the philosopher-boy turned to grunt, blank-out humping huge…
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In the Time of Avian Politics
By Josh Nicolaisen Attempting to influence opinions and implement policies through terse tweets, it’s clear he sees himself as the great golden eagle of social media, and America. Sure, bald would be more appropriate and more patriotic, but don’t we know appropriateness is apart from his concerns and that the narcissist would never ignore…
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House of Worth
by dl mattila High-pitched brow, purse-proud veneers: Harry Winston links, filigreed graffiti, pelts, cashmeres — your armature, your lah-di-dahs, your house of worth. dl mattila is a linguist and poet residing in the Greater Washington DC Metropolitan Area.
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Caged
By Edytta Anna Wojnar The song of birds outside pulls her out of a nightmare in which chicks hatch from eggs submerged in boiling water. She hastily retrieves them and not knowing what to do next, she blankets them with foil and places in a box. Outside, the chirping is gregarious. A neighbor’s dog…
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Between the River and the Rock
Liz Kellebrew, Narrative nonfiction, Standing Rock, Trail of Tears, The Great Plains, Cat Calhoun photographerBy Liz Kellebrew We were born to this place, to the broad bowl of the sky and the rolling fields of the plains, to the buffalo and wild horses, to the clouds and tall grass. We tore strips of lightning from our sides, and our ribs spread out like the wings of eagles. This…