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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The Weight of Our Stars

by Kevin Casey For just a quarter, the old man would tell your fortune… Summers after supper — curfewed, pent — we’d collapse in a graceless pack on that squalid house, lost in its cedars. Cracked lath spilled from the kitchen’s sagging plaster, and the stained wall’s sconce made stacked…

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And waking…

by Kevin Casey The winter stays put in its corner — an ash bucket, unhandled and dented, hungering for embers the summer stole to paint that sunrise while you slept. The sun rose like a a child’s red spade, and dug its way through apricot and amber, saffron and sand,…

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