How to Leave

I have a piece of turquoise beach glass.The second rarest color, after orange. It sits collecting dust between...

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Baby Make Like a Tree

i want to stick my fingers between all of your leaves i want to run my hands over your knots : step my bare feet onto your roots : sink against...

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Bread Knife

Mama and Barry mashed lumpy boiled potatoes into furrows with their forks, spread sour cream on top. I hated it. Mama cooked this every night, except the weekends when we had stringy boiled chicken.

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13 Short Story Contests in Canada

Calling all Canadian fiction writers! Here are 13 upcoming short story contests by Canadian literary organizations. Most offer cash prizes.

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Relation Ship and Other Poems

Relation ship of fools, the two of us set adrift squared to the sea, no rudder, no captain, no sails to see us through,unclear who is looking ahead the other behind us, just us. There were others but now just us asking...

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An Interview with Angie Abdou

Writing from the heart, writing as an act of radical empathy, and writing without urgency. Angie Abdou is a Canadian author of numerous...

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Neon

Dave looked at the neon sign in the corner of the bar window: ‘DEAD END.’ Even though the name...

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Writing Myself Alive: An Episodic Poem

Writing to keep calm Haiku in the seminar Villanelle at dusk Desperation firmly anchored in the stormy sea of...

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Prayer

Lisa worried her way through the second round of in vitro and the resulting pregnancy with Stella and Jackson. Our first in vitro...

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Slowing Down

Dr. Mica Monroe crossed the kitchen with four clicks of her six inch heels and opened the refrigerator door. Twenty one neatly stacked...

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The Crash

"My father liked to work with his hands So much so that it created calluses on his palms and he survived solely on manual labor..."

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The Hard Way, Kid

DEAR OLD WEST TECH, WE’LL ALWAYS LOVE YOU. It’s the opening line of my high school...

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Against Ruins, in Praise of Pink

“Yes, yes. Over there is fine. Just under the middle window. Thank you so much,” Braynah said, directing the two workmen. Both men, in burly middle age...

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Maybe a Mango, Recovery, Yearly Physical

Peach halves wobble in pineapple jello on the tray across her hospital bed, a kitchen accustomed to the elderly; still, Green Pines...

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Results of the 2019 Dreamers Writing Contest

Congratulations to the winners of the Dreamers Writing Contest: Stories of Migration, Sense of Place and Home. In the United States, Dreamers is a term ...

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Drowning Manifesto

Do not tempt the sharks. Do not move your limbs horizontally or vertically. Do not hold on to pictures or passports or holy books...

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Hail Mary

I’m crammed in with forty-nine other pairs of feet, shackled in steel. It’s kinda like a reverse Oreo of...

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I Don’t Speak Icelandic

“Eg tala ekki Islensku,” I say, with a perfect accent: “I don’t speak Icelandic.” It’s the sentence I utter most often in my mother’s language...

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