Latest Writing
POETRY
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CHIMERA by Vievee Francis
I have no charms. Admittedly. No gold comb can move through This mane. My skin is not translucent. It is not soft. Mine is a tail to fear. I know.
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EPICUREAN by Vievee Francis
A hungry mouth, an empty mouth, insistent mouth, mouth that would be filled by the seaweed of me, that would crack the shell with a rock and take its portion. The mouth gages its slide, gapes— grotto mouth. Mouth where I might go to pray, to fall upon my knees before. A mouth full of…
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GRINGO by Brandon Courtney
Wetback. Fence-jumper. My father’s heart fists with its yearly dying as he recalls his hired hand— a Hispanic—burying our tractor to its axle in a soup of snowmelt to men who, every morning, sit half-mooned around the greasy spoon’s table, lifting Styrofoam cups to sunburnt lips:
FICTION
TRANSLATION
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