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Bob Taylor

1I can’t help but hatehaiku. They end abruptlyjust as they’re getting2going. See? I needanother just to finishthis simple thought, and3maybe it’s true thatall the love in the world couldfit in a matchbox4but who would want totry, and where, in that case, wouldone store their matches?—  Rob Taylor, “Haikus 1-4,”  The Other Side of Ourselves, Previously… Continue reading Bob Taylor

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American Culture · Blog · Blog Post · Contemporary · Excerpt · Online Anthology · Paraphrase · Passage · Quote · Uncategorized

Devin Kelly

Every love poem, I think, is a poem of grace. Because you can spend years in silence not knowing how to say I love you. Because you can spend years knowing what you need but not asking for it. Because you can spend years lifting, only to realize that you spent years lifting the wrong… Continue reading Devin Kelly

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S.L. Cato

Mental labels don’t define who I am, time and aging only gets me closer to those I love, will love, and have loved. — S.L. Cato, from “Hello May, Birthday month, musing on aging gracefully,” May 1, 2016

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American Culture · American Literature · Blog · Contemporary · Excerpt · Online Anthology · Online Journal · Online Magazine · Passage · Periodical · Poetry · Prose Poetry

Mike McGee

Open Letter to Neil Armstrong Dear Neil Armstrong, I write this to you as she sleeps down the hall. I need answers I think only you might have. When you were a boy, and space was simple science fiction, when flying was merely a daydream between periods of History and Physics, when gifts of moon… Continue reading Mike McGee

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James Joyce

Goodbye, my darling whom I am trying to degrade and deprave. How on God’s earth can you possibly love a thing like me? — James Joyce, from a letter to Nora Barnacle, “Fμckbird and Jim: James Joyce’s letters to Nora Barnacle.” February 25, 2011.

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Blog · Contemporary · Excerpt · Fragment · Nigerian-American Culture · Nigerian-American Literature · Online Journal · Passage · Poetry

Uche Nduka

somewhere behind the napes, armorial backbone. ripeness that goes on and on. a kayak, waist-deep. in blood is where the acorn grows. which means the world is ravenous. i want to eat my cake and have it. lover, am i not your invention? — Uche Nduka, “Somewhere Behind the Napes,” Overpassbooks January 15, 2013

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