fathers and daughters
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From the Archives: Voices on Addiction: None of This Is Bullshit
I was fine. No one and nothing could hurt me.
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From the Archive: Explicit Violence
Afterward, there was dead silence in the kitchen. I know because I held my breath. Even air molecules seemed to still.
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Joe at the Aquarium
I pushed him so he glided through the fish, the eels, the boxed-in worlds of blues.
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What Russian Grammar Taught Me about Death
I wanted to feel in control of something, but I didn’t know how to say that.
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Bringing to Light: A Gathering and Tethering of Memory in Darla Himeles’s Cleave
Poems echo, rebound, and speak to one another.
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Gods Arrive Where We Pay Attention: A Conversation with Avni Vyas
Avni Vyas discusses her debut poetry collection, LITTLE GOD.
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Tongue Stuck
It was a kind of madness to speak a language to my son that I hadn’t used in almost a decade.




