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Memory Dissection: A Statue, My Father, and a Camera

Thu Mar 23 2017

The bronze statue looked almost alive—a young girl, life-sized, or nearly. Her small breasts and slim hips placed her at the start of puberty, around twelve or thirteen—we were about the same age. Her mouth was open in a perfect oval. View at roarfeminist »


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The Thesaurus Might Make Me Someone to Yearn For

Wed Dec 28 2016

Let the words be enough. View at thedrunkenllama »


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Cicadas

Wed Dec 28 2016

I had not seen my father in several years, and I had no aching desire to change that. View at thedrunkenllama »


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The Right Tap

Thu Sep 01 2016

I had forgotten how warm the water is straight out of the faucet in Key West. Open the cold tap, and you’ll get water warm enough to bathe in. The water comes down a pipe one hundred and sixty miles from Miami, solar warm under the hot sun, saturated with dissolved makeup they used to say, or pipe rust or medication probably. I drank it anyway and didn’t mind at all. View at hippocampusmagazine »


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When You Stop Inviting People Over

Mon Aug 22 2016

The first time you step on a dead fly in your bare feet the crackling snap disgusts you. You run to the bathroom, wash your foot with soap and water for ten solid minutes, then coat your heel in hand sanitizer for good measure. The presence of mashed fly interior adhered to your foot’s exterior makes you want to yak, puke, or vomit, depending on your sensibilities. View at lunalunamagazine »


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Medium

Fri Jun 10 2016

 I am medium. Brown hair, brown eyes, medium height, weight, and shoe-size. My brother is tall, and by tall I mean outside the bell curve.  He says he’s six-foot-nine, but my mother thinks he’s closer to six-foot-seven.  All I know is that if I stretch my hand as high as it can go, I can just reach the top of his head.  Like telling a fish story, when someone asks how tall my brother is, I just say, “he’s this big.”  Read more »


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The Poetry of 1,000 Feet

Fri Dec 04 2015

When you fly at a thousand feet, you see the world differently. Commercial planes fly at an anonymous altitude, so far up that houses become invisible. General aviation flies lower. We are able to see into your backyards and witness the things you have hidden behind the barn. View at airplanereading »


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Between the Sepals

Mon Nov 30 2015

my pink petals darkened brown I thought for the sin of my unwashed hands. Barbie doll romantic reenactments always terminated in taboo Georgia O’Keefe finger painting. View at visceraluterus »


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Notes on Binary Gender

Tue Nov 17 2015

1. “Binary describes a numbering scheme in which there are only two possible values for each digit: 0 and 1. The term also refers to any digital encoding/decoding system in which there are exactly two possible states.” View at weirderary »


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The Flying Confessional

Wed Nov 04 2015

I fly a lot. Not, perhaps, as much as a flight attendant or member of congress, but probably more than a lot of people. I will take any opportunity to jump on a plane, and I don't even particularly care where I am going. It's not that I have any deep-seeded wanderlust; I really don't care all that much about seeing foreign countries or having multi-cultural experiences. I just love to fly. View at airplanereading »


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A Justifiable Unjustified Fear of Spiders

Tue Sep 15 2015

“Covert incest refers to a form of emotional abuse in which the relationship between a parent and a child is inappropriately sexualized without actual sexual contact.” (Wikipedia)*  * Wikipedia is not considered a reliable source for scholarly articles.  Read more »


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Being Raised by Lesbians

Fri Nov 15 2013

The story everyone wants to hear isn’t the story I want to tell. Everyone wants to know what it was like to be raised by lesbians, how we functioned, what made it different. I want to talk about other things, the things that formed me and shaped me and scarred me. Not my mother’s sexuality. View at brainchildmag »


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