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March 27, 2017 | Poetry

Two Poems

Christen Noel

In hopes of rain, we laid our bodies south 

Two Poems photo
Shitstorm photo

March 27, 2017 | Nonfiction

Shitstorm

Melissa Moorer

Now Dad would have to drive us to Mom’s in the shit-mobile, which probably wouldn’t start even if he could get the car doors open. Cows were standing pinned between the car and the wall and the doors had been frozen shut since the storm even without all the extra ice and frozen manure. Dad had tried pouring boiling water over the handles days ago, but the doors only worked while the handle was still too hot then froze solid again, worse than before. 

Honey Mustard photo

March 24, 2017 | Nonfiction

Honey Mustard

Michael Fischer

He could kill me right now. I’m rail-thin, depression rotting the muscle off me since I got here. He’s big and strong and calls himself Faheem.

Four Poems photo

March 23, 2017 | Poetry

Four Poems

Russell Brakefield

Driving, we saw a shepherd swollen to the shoulder and I told her it was a deer.