Sunflower Sick
Maybe this pandemic will make us a family.
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...moreThea Matthews discusses her debut poetry collection, UNEARTH [THE FLOWERS].
...moreA poem by Jessica Smith yields the feeling that atoms of meaning vibrate, then come together.
...moreI want to speak, but I don’t know what to say to you, so here’s a bloom.
...moreKatie Jean Shinkle discusses her new novel, RUINATION.
...moreI’m not sure how it happened, but I’ve ventured beyond what I came to see. The end of the road, the limitless sky—I still haven’t found our prairie.
...moreBut to become a writer I needed at least to learn about my own superstitions. I needed space in the house to sketch with words. I needed to commit heresies. And those acts had to feel pleasurable.
...moreThe only time I can stand the sight of the bouquet of bullshit is early in the morning, before I flip on the lights. In the dark their perfection is only imagined, not confirmed by sight. This eases the edges like a pain pill dulls the healing muscles around the site of my incision.
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