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- The Great Excavation
- coming out in no particular order
- This town; a breathing crocodile, is a sad town…
- My grandfather on a sandglass
- what the little girl meant to say when the long-haired journalist asked: where are you from?
- The man who wrote bad poetry
- The dilemma of a poem
- a poem you read from right to left
- The federal constitution
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- coming out in no particular order eunoiareview.wordpress.com/2019/04/18/com… 18 hours ago
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Category Archives: Fiction
Ever since Grandpa died, Ambuya—Grandma rations her affection in morsels, like the last bits of beef in a stew. Some to Daddy, her first son, less to Mummy, the one who stole him from her bosom. It’s almost as if … Continue reading
My friends and I are talking about Valentine’s Day. We’re arguing about chocolate and cards and capitalism and corporate greed. We’re asking if one rose is enough and if 12 is overkill and what the second-most romantic flower is. The … Continue reading
Five-year-old Gracie was gone by the time the turkey vultures arrived. The last time I saw her she was wrapped in a twist of blankets inside the tent, playing with fabric scraps and a wooden doll. Her little hands fluttered … Continue reading
It was a white-tailed deer, a doe about a year old, and its limbs seemed inextricably mingled with the limbs of a century-old sugar maple on the corner of Pine Street and Oak Avenue. The new leaves, the size of … Continue reading
i. Four dogs down rot away sunk in the mud. That river ain’t worth damn a nickel and I’ve known men said that. Rot and waste not more than two things taken away when she come down and call me … Continue reading
The old Excelsior Hotel on Highsmith and 3rd. An invulnerable brick butte, a real bunker of a place, its extravagant furnishings all rampaged by a fire back in ’07. The skeleton stands there for years afterward looking hardly scathed. A … Continue reading