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November 8, 2019 | Poetry

three poems

Marcy Rae Henry

seeds

when nothing smells like you
i let dawn-colored fruit rot in the blue bowl
spray perfume thru the air and try to touch 
myself the way you touched me

too bad we met/never met

three poems photo
The Comet photo

November 7, 2019 | Nonfiction

The Comet

Dan Higgins

I just remember the room dense with familiar sound, the melancholy howl of the perfectly in-tune saxophones, the electric brilliance of trumpets, a drummer with eight arms; my mother looking over at me, expectantly, as if to say, “This is what you wanted, right? This is making you happy?”

 

Seasick photo

November 6, 2019 | Nonfiction

Seasick

Christina Kapp

What will be will be. She was a good swimmer, and at least he was getting some exercise. 

Two poems photo

November 6, 2019 | Poetry

Two poems

Mal Young

in the bella resource center

that lesser bond girl
her name was a play on genuflect

i can be good
lowering myself to the ground
everyone says reverent but they always
mean deference

i