Featured Writing

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Exponential Decay

By Maggie Kennedy “The orange tastes like a refrigerator,” my son says,spitting out his bite and pretending to gag,and though I have never tasted a refrigeratorI know what he means. The orange tastes like the plastic it was wrapped in.And though I have never eaten plastic,the conjured smell fills my…

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Author Archive

The Faces

by Jesse Breite             What could be more radiant, more terrifying than the faces of my friends congregated for me from their odd places, soulful little red dots speckling the globe? Each one yearning more than a torch ablaze in the black cold of December,…

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East Summit Trail

by Jesse Breite             God’s broken teeth spit out and tumbled from the bald peak, gurgled from earth’s hot belly. Pinnacle Mountain is the only peak I’ll always climb in silence. The congregation of lizards waits and listens to the shifting stems, the heart’s blossom,…

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Cézanne-Still

by Jesse Breite               If the fruit tells us anything, it is that we yearn, that the stillness is furious, that the fury is a sacred fire, that fire is a way of breathing, that lungs feed the open wound, but also that color…

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