Scissors of the Air

Scissors of the Air

A visit to the hair salon every seven or eight weeks for me is the emotional equivalent of attending a high school reunion, the kind where two popular girls, naturally both cheerleaders, rush you in the restroom line, singsong, “Are you married yet? We didn’t think so,” and whizz off in a confetti of giggles.

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The Social Distance Reading Series

GMR
 

Recent Posts

Two Poems

Two Poems

Picture a garden, circling it, a field on fire, rich with color, but in that color is lack, and at first, you can assume a grander theme; assume a seduction associated with color or vibrancy, but that’s one of the first things you learn in school: everything is made up of shades.

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Green Mountains Review, based at Northern Vermont University, is an annual, award-winning literary magazine publishing poetry, fiction, creative nonfiction, literary essays, interviews, and book reviews by both well-known writers and promising newcomers.

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The Serpent of Eighth Hole

The Serpent of Eighth Hole

When I came home from summer camp in the Poconos in 1958, Knutt showed me a pair of turtles he’d caught in Queen Anne Creek. Silver-dollar-size painted terrapins basked on sunlit mats of watercress that grew against Queen Anne’s banks like barrier reefs beside the deeper, more quickly flowing clear-water channel midstream.

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A Review of Jen Karetnick’s THE CROSSING OVER

The World Already on Fire: Dzvinia Orlowsky’s Bad Harvest

Bad Harvest is a resonant folk song that fills the chambers of the future with echoes of the past. Its complex twists of hereditary and personal relations with language and work open a chasm of concern for the future that Dzvinia Orlowsky locates and does a little dance on the edge of. She stares openly, even mockingly, into the pit of impermanence and unpredictability, spinning the prescribed doom and mortality of what we all know shall end: health, love, and livelihood.

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Two Poems

Two Poems

One can hold a crossbow and a pussy / Willow with the same affection. / One can dream her own body in the arms / of the blue Mary

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No One Should Feel That Alone

No One Should Feel That Alone

Jane was handing someone a bouquet of satay, / gushing about Muller’s Foreign Cinema and Laszlo, / when I told her about the abortion. A party / not the best place to breathe new disclosures, to say: / The baby would be three years old now.

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Homecoming

Homecoming

Finally the war was over / we could go home but / wife was wary. Those houses? / said, watching the news. / >Those stores? schools? police? Fake. / believe what you see.

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