Writing is an act of resistance
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The Which In Waiting
By R.W.W. Greene Joanne’s television remote hit the wall hard, spawning batteries and bits of plastic that chose their own paths to the floor. She flicked the switch on the power strip that governed the media center and picked up the tarnished hourglass she’d readied before tuning into the ceremony. Four years would likely…
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On a Theme by Leonard Cohen
By Mark J. Mitchell I’m guided by the beauty of our weapons. —”First We Take Manhattan” I’m battered by the blindness of our weapons. Boys stare at screens and tickle switches. Death drops from the sky onto archaic altars. Isaac screams. Ishmael burns. Rachel weeps for her children. From the empty office, ritual…
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Judgment
By Dianne Olsen Her name is the color of bright yellow sunflowers, the scent of dusky sage. Her intense black hair absorbs the sun. She stands close, her hand clutching mine, Flora, my mother, my friend, my accompaniment to life. I am a bubble of laughter from her lips a note of joy tossed in…
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Land of the Free
By Sahar Fathi You say we are all equal Give us your tired your poor your huddled freaking masses! But not if they are Muslim brown persecuted by governments (we installed) drug wars (we created) I say give them to me I will pull the stars from the sky to light their way o’er…
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Uncle Sam Doesn’t Want You
By Tara Campbell On June 29, to little fanfare, the State Department reinstated the approximately sixty Foreign Service job offers it had abruptly rescinded from Pickering and Rangel Fellows earlier in the month. The Pickering and Rangel programs seek to diversify the U.S. Foreign Service by providing undergraduate and graduate scholarships and Foreign Service jobs to…
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No rules to follow, no laws to break—we woke!
By Zigi Lowenberg ’scuse me ’scuse me, don’t know the rules here but I butt in across the room, I know we were once from the same tribe ancient threads pulling me towards you float along the oceans that fool the eye with their expanse we are salt we are sand we are water…
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A Roof Over Their Heads
By Brian Dunlap I Jorge has reached Mar Vista Park. The bells attached to his icebox on wheels announce the popsicles and ice cream sandwiches, enticing on a warm Los Angeles summer day. Older siblings and parents chase children whose giggles and squeals permeate the jungle gym. Footprints upon footprints imprinted in the…
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Market Value
By Yun Wei Monday markets egg-dropped in the summer camp race, and somewhere a global circuit grid slowed, blinked, shorted. Where did the treasure go? I know I could never read this map. Now at my desk on a Monday night, drinking from a sweating glass, I think of summer camps, of gathering scrapes and…
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‘2017’: The Letter and The Review
By Miranda Outman 2017: The Letter, 1977 Tom, Terrific to see you out at Montauk. A shame Helen couldn’t make it, but you managed to whip up a nice spread. Diane couldn’t stop talking about that fondue. At any rate, Tom, I’m not going to beat around the bush. I’ve read through 2017. It’s different, it’s…