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Green Mountains Review, based at Johnson State College in Vermont, is a biannual, 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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American Jewish Women Poets: Part I

American Jewish Women Poets: Part I

What is a Jewish poem? This question has been on my mind since I began writing poetry in high school. If I write poems about Jewish holidays and Israel, are they Jewish poems? If I write a poem that includes a few Hebrew or Yiddish words, is the poem Jewish? If the poet is Jewish, is the poem automatically Jewish as well? read more
DUZ Does Everything

DUZ Does Everything

ALEXANDRA TEAGUE is the author of Mortal Geography (Persea 2010), winner of the 2009 Lexi Rudnitsky Prize and 2010 California Book Award, and The Wise and Foolish Builders (Persea 2015). read more

Review of The Natural Dissolution of Fleeting-Improvised-Men

Gabriel Blackwell is emerging as one of our great formal innovators. What Gary Lutz has been doing at the level of sentences and words, Blackwell is doing at the level of stories, essays, and novels. . . . His latest and best book to date . . . is a dark, wondrous labyrinth fitting for the presentation of a fictional H.P. Lovecraft’s last letter. read more
Restoring the Confederacy Theater

Restoring the Confederacy Theater

Dad’s a manwhore. On his first date with Mom, he made her watch a bunch of filthy Betamax tapes with him. She let him. Dad was a banker from a good family. Mom’s dad set the date up. And on rolled the Betamax. Because this was the seventies, I like to picture this all going down in sepia: Mom fluffing her hair, applying lipstick, Dad listening to Supertramp and doing coke out of the filter end of a Parliament in his Lincoln, Mom screeching at the sight of John Holmes’s monster member. read more
No Good for Digging

No Good for Digging

A plumber died in the trenches. The red earth caved, made a sucking sound as the cold clay swallowed his knees and then the topsoil cascaded in a sigh. In that first second of his boots sinking, he thought about wet socks. read more
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