Tag Archives | The shadow knows

Donna DiCello

Donna DiCello | Zenith

Orion, a nebula shimmering in anticipation and prospect, simple, like van Gogh’s brushstrokes, righting its alignment. Spirited unfolding, black then blue then yellow, forming something intimate and recognizable. Night turns to dream shawl and velvet, silvery strands of water and horizon, I stand there watching, as day appears in a single eruption, as the sun shines as if for the first time. The constellation leads out into day a rendering […]

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Thomas M. Atkinson

Thomas M. Atkinson | Standing deadwood

THE RACCOON TOOK A CRAP IN MY TRUCK LAST NIGHT. Inside the cab, in the cup-holder. I was still a little bleary this morning and my coffee thermos wouldn’t sit straight so I kept trying to push it down. That’s how my day started. That and a sore knee. He must have dropped down out of the pine and pushed in the cardboard I had over the busted rear window. […]

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Stephenson Muret

Stephenson Muret | Shooters and saints

The mindscape of the shooter may very well remain unknown to the rest of us forever. What follows is my own speculation, an amplification of what many nonviolent anti-social people feel about society, and a projection of their complaints into a mind that reacts with homicidal aggression. I do not write this essay as a justification for the shooter’s atrocities, but as an attempt to unmask what motivates them. IT […]

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The Way of (Dis)Order

Mary Marie Dixon | The Way of (Dis)Order

At moon’s last silver she dug tubers of iris and split to profligate the silver meat Under star points the shriveled brown flaked and fell to decay   Incongruent Eden already in cycle to spin and drop to crease an order imposed by the first woman   In that tamed creation she surrendered to a sleep thoughtless and vague unordered   In the tomb of her making the iris rooted […]

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