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The Previously Abandoned

  • All
  • Classics
  • Fiction
  • Flash
  • Issue 1
  • Issue 2
  • Issue 3
  • Issue 4
  • Nonfiction
  • Poetry
  • Translation
  • Visual Art

Dear Deer in the Compost Pile

I tap at the alphabet while a single deer
taps at the dirt beyond the brush
on the far side of the tree line.

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Nautilus

She turns her back for me to fasten the rows of metal hooks. Why isn’t our small, tender freedom enough?

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An Endeavor of Being Now

We stop doing dishes while
a mile unwinds
from the tree outside.

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Like dirt

this is what I want you to to see:
leaves falling because it is too late for them not to

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Protected: The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;

The Cycle

It all started with the curse of my tits. Women’s bodies are cursed. Everyone tries to look at them, everyone tries to ignore them.

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What Did I Mention To Ya?

Ever since your son brought you here, things have been different. He was crying when he dropped you off. You still don’t know why.

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The Plot

Long after midnight, we’re talking about our first time

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Storm Over Pacific

A reflection on a place that is inherently hostile to humans.

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Pit Stop in Kansas

we drove on through
the blue seal of morning as the turbines
turned and winked out their hearts

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Ode To the Dove Pt. VI (Avrom Sutzkever)

Yes I am guilty, I’m guilty. A sin was desirable then.
Bring the dancer back to the stalks.

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Athena, the Octopus, Solves a Puzzle

The new octopus at the children’s aquarium was named Athena, and as we waited for her to emerge, I thought of the almost-too-faint second line on the pregnancy test three days before.

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Landscape with Ash

You are strange, my mother said, dwelling on the past.

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Out of the Harbor and Into the Open Sea

I’d never heard of anyone having a second baby right after the first one, but everything was so strange in those early days of motherhood that I just acted on instinct.

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My Multiverses

It is the 70s. 1970s? 2570s? Who knows?
Audre and I have a penthouse in New York.

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Chronic Pain Is An Invisible Disease

This series is a response to a health diagnosis, trigeminal neuralgia and thoracic outlet syndrome, from a major mid-Atlantic hospital after a several year journey through chronic pain.

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Sprung (April)

I like to think I’m also sprung,
released from the furnace knocks,
done with the heavy meat stews
and salty soups.

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wade-in

I am in Rite Aid buying ChapStick and diapers, when people start washing away in the rain.

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