By on May 17, 2015 in Cuttings, Fiction | Comments Off

Babies know when they come out unwanted. I did. I was born with a hole right inside my heart and spent too many years tryin’ to fill a space that didn’t want to be filled. I never knew the empty could be so heavy. Daddy already flew away by then, and Momma didn’t care enough to use her own healin’ touch. She shoved me off on Rayanne, who never wanted me anyhow. We lived down a long, dirt road and out past a barn older than my Momma. She told me once that she kissed a boy in the hay field down the way. She said he smelled like fresh dirt and had a freckle by his left ear. She’d...

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Nylon Rain

By on Mar 22, 2015 in Cuttings, Featured, Poetry | Comments Off

The rain comes down on nylon lines as nylon rain, each fiber-optic strand a light shine- shrine, and a vibrating way.

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The Truth About the Expulsion

By on Feb 23, 2015 in Cuttings, Fiction, Humor | Comments Off

An Address Delivered at the East Orange Women’s Conference First of all, I wanted to go. Adam was the one who wanted to stay. If it was up to him, we’d still be there, spending eternity in mind-numbing peace and tranquility, every day sunnier and cheerier than the previous. Sure, it was Paradise, but Paradise gets old real fast without any contrast. Besides, it wasn’t Paradise with a guy like Adam. Bloated with his First Man persona, he thought it was he and only he who should name all the creatures that walked on land and swam in the sea. And they were the most boring names....

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A Love Story

By on Feb 8, 2015 in Cuttings, Fiction | Comments Off

Alex felt so doped up with painkillers and anxiety-reducing drugs that when they wheeled him into the operating room, he couldn’t worry, had he wanted to. The one thing he recalled was asking if his wife had been notified. A familiar voice whispered, “I’m here, honey. I’m here,” but too much was going on to make sense of anything. He saw bright lights and people in blue scrubs. Someone told him to count backwards from ten. He reached nine when a new calmness allowed him to block out the image of a car racing through a red light straight toward him. It seemed...

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The Cage

By on Feb 8, 2015 in Cuttings, Fiction | 3 comments

because so many wondered what happened … A once beautiful bird sat on a post in a gilded cage.  Her claws gripped the post on which she sat.  Her cage was made of the finest material.  Her days were spent in the dark, only catching a glimpse of the outside world. As the years passed, she could feel time slipping away.  Her body aged and she was weak from her burdens.  When her cage was uncovered for her regular feeding, the brilliant light blinded her to what the outside world offered. Her keeper, the Lord of the manor, insisted he knew best.  Indeed, he was a very important...

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Molasses in January

By on Feb 7, 2015 in Cuttings | 6 comments

My mother took a drag on a Pall Mall, exhaled, and told the story of my birth. These Boots Are Made for Walkin’ was playing on WJOY, and it was my fourth birthday. She proclaimed, “You were like molasses in January.” We were idling at a red light in a green station wagon on Main Street in Burlington, Vermont. I wasn’t yet familiar with the properties of molasses, but I knew it to be an important ingredient in ginger snaps; it seemed exotic, unlike maple syrup. The youngest, I was always beside her in the kitchen, watching, standing on a chair or peering over the counter, sticking my...

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