Tag: Four Way Review
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STEPHANIE SAYS by Alain Douglas Park
A woman stands alone in the surf. She’s up to her mid-thighs in the water, warm Gulf of Mexico water, and she can feel the strong undertow of the sea. It pulls her legs and sucks the sand from under her feet. It’s tremendous—this undertow—a force of nature—powerful. But, she’s determined to stand in it.…
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Between the Lines:An Interview with Benjamin Miller
In this installment of “Between the Lines,” Dustin Pearson talks with Benjamin Miller about journeys through the desert, words as objects, and poetic self-interrogation.
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ORIGIN OF GLASS by Marcelo Hernandez Castillo
it is winter again as we feel our way through a bed of glass in the river we’ve been here before everything’s the same still the morning still the pieces of glass we pile in the image of a child and praise…
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The Burning by Peace Adzo Medie
The potholes in the road were filled with muddy water because it had rained the night before. Some of the holes, jagged around the edges, were the size of mini craters and every time we reached one, we stomped our feet in it and sloshed the brown water on each other. We roared in excitement…
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Singing Backup by Jason Kapcala
“Drinks,” Muzzie says. “You, me, and Chen—a celebration in Dizzy’s memory. Not a drinking party.” He won’t go that far with it—but Kev knows that though he never went to college, never set foot in a frat house, Muzzie holds a pretty clear definition of what a drinking party entails: keg stands and beer pong…
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TWO POEMS by Joy Ladin
EARLY MORNING FLIGHT Half-empty plane, hot black coffee – it takes so many people to keep my body soaring. I must be important, or at least not dead, and my not being dead must matter, or it wouldn’t be so sunny…
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LIGHT INSTALLATION AT THE HILTON by Iva Ticic
there are galaxies above what used to be the soft spots at the top of our heads we elongate our necks at an angle trying to take in all that neon-filled fullness of the light-splattered cosmos
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TWO POEMS by Rachel Eliza Griffiths
DEAR AMERICA I pick you up & you are a child made of longing clasped to my neck. Iridescent, lovely, your inestimable tantrums, I carry you back & forth from the underworlds where your giggles echo, grow into howls.
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BREATH MEMORY [BREATH ALPHABET] by Cory Hutchinson-Reuss
Zero degrees again. Midwest winters confuse loving with not leaving. Yes we are made of drifts. Yes we are made of degrees on a map of discontent. [Aluminum breath, breath of absence and alchemy, Breath of blood history, breath of aromatic bitters]
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TREES by David Lawrence
The log that fell into the river went for a long swim into a hidden country where logs were the dominant culture and the trees wept as they saw their barky cousins floating home.
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BIRTHDAY by Lauren Hilger
On a stone wall, no one around I stole my mom’s mink stole I stare the doe in the face self-reflection in a lap pool March, my month, cold I want this to be the last awful cake white on white of winter