By on Sep 13, 2015 in Cuttings, Fiction | Comments Off

Moira Leibowitz was a force of nature, all long curly hair, shawls and scarves, and the scent of patchouli. We were organizing the grad students that winter — protesting, wearing buttons, threatening to strike. Moira brought her guitar and played songs like “We Shall Overcome” on it, wearing her grey gloves with the fingers cut off, the same gloves that handed out coffee to everyone on the especially cold days. I remember her...

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What You Can’t See

By on Sep 13, 2015 in Cuttings, Fiction | 1 comment

  South Vietnam — 1968   Clack went the shutter on my camera. The two South Vietnamese soldiers looked at one another, nodded and stepped back from the edge of the bomb crater. One pulled a cigarette from a pack in his breast pocket and lighted it. He offered one to his comrade, who shook his head and turned to look across the rice paddies toward the high ground, where a network of trees drew clean, black lines...

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By on May 31, 2015 in Cuttings, Featured, Poetry | Comments Off

clinging to a twig with unmoving tiny claws — cicada shell

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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...

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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...

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