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The bird as a collection of energy By Danielle Hanson QuailBellMagazine.com The energy is barely contained, and if released, all the gods would fly up, abandoning us like migrating birds, colliding in a downburst and raining The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Over The Hill In New EnglandHad I spent my twenties appearing jaundice in photographs Owning and operating a men’s-middle-leg-brace bodega on a side street somewhere in the Northwest During the hours of anytimeiwishedtodoso Or maybe laboring through the system The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
NightfallLike the heartwarming color the clouds reflect
at the end of the day -- that’s how I saw you back then. Deep in my darkness, The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The PlaguePoor Anneliese Michel, possessed by demons; she died in her bed, emaciated and insane. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Snap BeansI’m four or five or six, sitting in my grandparents’ front yard with a big metal bowl of snap beans in my lap. Pinch and twist, pinch and twist, I know the ritual like I know my mother’s tantalizing warning: “Always wash your hands when you’ve finished up a batch. They’re sprayed with poison.” The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Mature StudentAnna moved downstairs to the basement, where she learned the meaning of living in a damp and cold dungeon. When she had the wood stove burning, the cold basement, cluttered with soiled laundry, bras, panties, halter tops, yoga pants, short skirts, and athletic apparel hanging from the clothesline, and a growing collection of paperbacks, pocketbooks, and hardcover books on the shelves that once held jam and jellies jars and preserves, she felt comfortable. The house was hersole asset, and living downstairs she learned firsthand how rundown and small the basement of the dwelling was.
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Clutching at ClothespinsChasing chickens, folding quilts, both soft when pressed against the cheek. Dashing 'bout in bare feet. Wiggling toes make worms for beaks, and pretty kisses I must be wary of receiving unlovingly. They keep me busy. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
FaroBy Jared Pearce QuailBellMagazine.com Punting all I’ve got over fifteen married years, Knowing I’ve got roughly even odds of hitting The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
BrontideBy Ana Prundau QuailBellMagazine.com fake-superstitious florists silhouetted against waves impress enough to sell their wilting flowers The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
CancerBy C. L. Romer QuailBellMagazine.com The rattle rises all business and fear answers unsoothing seeking something solid |