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Romana Iorga

Romana Iorga This Silence Is the Largest I Could Find It has no doors, no windows.Yes, you may crawl inside it, but you must dig.I don’t know how long it will take.What spade? Use your fingers, your toes.Your teeth, if…

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Sonya Schneider

Ode to My BreastsI have no memory of the buds, the hard fistsof hormones hauling you up not unlikethe earth moved by velvety voles.Warm friends, I underestimated you.You grew out of sinewy muscle and fat,that dirty word, that dense tissuewhy…

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Caleb Peterson

Caleb Petersen Ten Reasons to Write Poetry One) last night Hunter diced onions and poblano peppers,finely, then scraped them into a pot of beef. Two)it smelled of smoked paprika and cumin and my eyeswelled up with the need for metaphor.…

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Kirby Wright

Kirby Wright BOULDER BLUES   We sat near the continental air access tunnel. My father wore a Lilly Daché button-up, khaki pants, and blue joggers. Daddyo was upset that my mother and Jen were visiting the airport gift shop. He…

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Kale Hensley

Kale Hensley I RECKON WITH MY FEET The first time a girl witnesses her toes in the mouth of another, she would not have anticipated it happening during a game at church. It is complicated. I use that word in…

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Hannah Smart / A Nonstatistical Analysis of the Futility of Statistical Analysis

by Hannah Smart                                                                                                                  4904 A Nonstatistical Analysis of the Futility of Statistical Analysis   It’s 7:04 p.m. on Tuesday, May 30, and I’m about to enter Fenway Park for what will be my first ever major league baseball game, sponsored…

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