WOVEN is an Entropy series and dedicated safe space for essays by persons who engage with #MeToo, sexual assault and harassment, and #DomesticViolence, as well as their intersections with mental…
love
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* * * When I let the soft animal of my body love what it loves —after Mary Oliver it falls from the sky like one of Mary Oliver’s…
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* * * The Hummingbird After the window had closed (it was raining so hard) I told myself just one of those things you say: I’ll begin to love again.…
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* * * Even the Crows At sundown Venus, small __and brighter than the moon blazes in the Western Sky __Lanky Maples dress up their dull grey bones __in an…
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* * * Bluebird___After The Memorial Granny was busy—sweeping and folding we’d not visited at all since she lost the daughter I’d lost my mother.___Granny, please sit. She perched on…
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FeaturedFictionPoetryProse
The Birds: Another Red Ribbon – a nonbinary tale of absented love
by Guest Contributor April 5, 2021They were reading again. They were reading, and they were waiting. Waiting by the lake. “Lacuna” they read aloud, “Latin for a missing book, or a cavity in bone.” They…
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Image Credit: Goodreads In middle school, I remember eagerly anticipating the start of S.E. Hinton’s novel The Outsiders. The story, my teacher and friends told me, was electrifying and…
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* * * resurrection sunday (during the 2020 pandemic) It was 7 am easter sunday i was sitting and sipping tea when a cardinal landed on the balcony, two more…
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* * * You hold your clenched fist out to me, palm up, fingers wrapped around an unseen object. I hold your gaze as I unwrap them, one by one.…
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* * * bird, announce * * * rolling * * * versed * * * J.I. Kleinberg is an artist, poet, and freelance writer. She has twice been nominated…
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The lover speaks in bundles of sentences but does not integrate these sentences on a higher level, into a work; his is a horizontal discourse: no transcendence, no deliverance, no…
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I was eating cherries out of a jar when Denis Johnson died, my fingers sticky with the slime. Their red syrup coating my teeth, I could feel a cavity forming…
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* * * 42’55” N, 70’85” W Gulls pick at empty shells, scattered. Sailboats sit on sand, anchors down. A black cardigan harbors her shoulders. wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwNew England is too cold.…
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When the patrol car pulled to a stop on the dirt road two fields away and three Police officers piled out, we never imagined they were coming for us. A…