God’s Fingernail

By MASHA HAMILTON

He brought her stories, long and intricate narratives that he laid at her feet like a dog with a bone. She would have preferred love, or at least more of his wild, open-hearted sex, but that was complicated; after all, she lived in another time zone now, and the divorce, far beyond messy, had left him in debt. For weeks, he’d camped out in his friend’s van—demoralizing for a middle-aged man. He had an apartment on the third floor in what she knew was a rough neighborhood, backing up against the desert. He had a son also, and that’s where his energy needed to go. Stories were what he could manage for her.

God’s Fingernail
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Between the Lines

By SUJATA SHEKAR

The morning of the announcement, Bo Htet Aung finished his story. He wrote The End at the bottom of the page, shut the notebook, and slipped it into the briefcase he took to work each day. Then he set about ironing a white shirt and blue longyi with more than his usual precision. He wished he could wear his old major’s uniform, with its crisp olive lines and the peaked cap that added two inches to his height. But it was not that kind of day, that kind of announcement. Instead he pulled his traditional taikpon jacket on over his shirt and left it unbuttoned. His fingers shook too much.

Between the Lines
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Poetry Month: Emily Dickinson Cartoon

By ROSANNA BRUNO 

April is POETRY MONTH, and we’re kicking it off with a satirical cartoon of local poet Emily Dickinson: girl voted most likely to dwell in possibilitycartoon

Get into the spirit of POETRY MONTH with this satirical cartoon of Emily Dickinson, who reminds us to be wary when travelling…

cartoon

Rosanna Bruno is a visual artist who lives and works in Brooklyn, NY.

Poetry Month: Emily Dickinson Cartoon
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Dante Or, The End of Poetry

By PATRICK PRITCHETT

for Raul Zurita

And he stirred his coffee, the old poet, and spoke of
Dante, and how Homer’s journey to the underworld
wove a thread through Virgil to the selva oscura. And
that the Commedia was not the apex of Christianity, but
its finale. That the enormous architecture of the poem
was not built to house theology, but to protect man from
the absence of God, who had already departed.

Dante Or, The End of Poetry
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