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selected past writing at 42opus

 

[The intolerable sound of starving] from She Writes a Ghost Story by ERICH SCHWEIKHER

You pull a name from the river, cradle

it to your breast. It is a twitching egg,

a pitcher of bees you wish to pour skyward.

5 December 2005 | poetry

 

Imaginary Greenhouse by EMILY KENDAL FREY

Dear Jalapeno,

Dear Vagrant,

The trees are making

fools of themselves.

I'm making faces

at the greedy river.

The sky spits

at us in our tiny

white hats.

9 July 2008 | poetry

 

The Lightning-Rod Man by HERMAN MELVILLE

His sunken pitfalls of eyes were ringed by indigo halos, and played with an innocuous sort of lightning: the gleam without the bolt. The whole man was dripping. He stood in a puddle on the bare oak floor: his strange walking-stick vertically resting at his side.

15 December 2006 | fiction, short story, classic

 

all the watches, unwinding by PATRICK M. PILARSKI

their inevitability, like frost

or pigeon calls in morning air.


there is a turning point

with snow, swooping

17 September 2009 | poetry

 

Our Last Evening, after Launching from the Bottom of the Hoover Dam by JOSH RATHKAMP

We play cards to drink

quicker than we would on our own.

The dearler'd say "drop"

and we'd slap the single card,

sweat-stuck against our foreheads…

2 December 2006 | poetry

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