Sweatpants

I shouldn’t say “should”, if I want to be happy. But who can be content while they are wasting borrowed time?

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Moni Brar Poetry Collection

Cardamom cloves. Poured into mismatched cup and steel glasses. Sipped over gossip and a twin-tailed mermaid.

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resisting gravity

fat weighs less than depression, but has greater volume, filling the space between id and ego, a gelatinous buffer against world.

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Long Sleeves

If you had had just a little more time, I might have pulled up my sleeve to show you the bruises.

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When You Write My Eulogy

Don’t mention my divorce or deferred adolescence but apologize for the times I was a lousy parent.

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Dreamers Magazine Issue 8

We're pleased to announce the release of Issue 8 of the Dreamers Magazine, including the winners of our Place & Home Contest Get your copy now!

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Barbed Wilderness

He’s tired of feeling like a criminal. He’s tired of being in a country that needed him, needed his people, but didn’t want their kind.

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Immigrant

I am | the Other Side of the story, the face | from a picture book | whose title | you cannot | pronounce: | In another life | I forged with you across continents,

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Dispersal Lessons

Animals move—it’s our birthright, a gift from ancient ancestors in the form of genes that could eventually code for leg or wing or fin.

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‘I Have Been a Stranger in a Strange Land’ Exodus 2:22

The boat stares back with many eyes. Some closed in prayer, others close to fainting. A few people imagine childhood homes or hold photos of a small Italian port. Some cry. Some are confused.

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A Roadmap of Scars

I do know that slowly, my own heart healed as patients and families invited me into the special intimacy of illness.

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Rest in Peace

The roots of a dysfunctional family are deeper than unhealthy thinking; they are steel wire cords.

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Will  I Forget Your Face?

You were special, hard... but so are gems. You were a shard of glass embedded under my skin.

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Prairie Heartbeats

A decade and two years of prairie farming. His hands touching her limp silhouette; Laid in the comfort of her bed.

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Have Mercy on Us

The girl laughed at her mother, a bigger laugh than was necessary and took another brownie. She was high.

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Thin Air

Maryn concentrated on the feeling of his touch, the cool sensation that passed over her skin...

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1915 Rewound

Bodies - One by One - which flail out the Rivers like Salmon, already caught by haunting Men.

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Neall Calvert Poetry Collection

Only an expanding heart . . . one that under-stands Those who ignore their history are doomed to repeat it.

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