Insomnia, 3:45 AM

Insomnia, 3:45 AM

I’m up because I can’t stay down. I could blame the aspen raking a branch across the window. Or a wounded toy in the next room sending off a distress call of three long beeps. Or my wife, Jacqui, dreaming again of babies swimming inside her like tadpoles—maybe she...

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GMR

Recent Posts

Two Poems

Most men can’t handle knowing what they are / Capable of—that the only thing they own of / The lives they stumble through are the long / Nights of plague & quiet that we are pushing read more

Born Naked

The first time I met my husband, he was wearing a single-breasted, peacock-blue suit made of silk. In the khaki and navy blazer culture that was Washington, D.C. at the time, Mario stood out. With his continental name, olive skin, and sartorial flair, many assumed he was Italian. That people were surprised to discover he was Mexican said less about him than it did about their preconceptions, some of which I shared. This was before I’d moved to Mexico, before I’d read The Labyrinth of Solitude, in which Octavio Paz says of the zoot-suit wearing pachuco: His disguise is a protection, but it also differentiates and isolates him: it both hides him and points him out. read more

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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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Slow Burn: Review of Ship of Fool by William Trowbridge

Slow Burn: Review of Ship of Fool by William Trowbridge

The poetry reader and writer in me now wants to ensconce Ship of Fool in some august and impressive literary tradition, but Fool reminds me most of Neil Gaiman’s Sandman series of comics (read “graphic novels”) from the early ‘90s. Like Gaiman’s pantheon of “The Endless” with Morpheus (or Dream) at its epicenter, Fool’s universe is likewise peopled with archetypes of nefarious or innocuous intent to confront, avoid, and sometimes spill coffee (or an accidental ice age) on. Which is to say, Fool is anything but a bore. read more
Evanescence: The Elaine Race Massacre

Evanescence: The Elaine Race Massacre

Mother casually mentioned that prior to her becoming a teenager, Lonnie had participated in a "well-known" race riot while in the employ of MoPac. Later on, she editorialized about it now and then . . . . Whenever she mentioned the race riot, Mother frequently referred to Lonnie, in a matter-of-fact tone, as a member of the Ku Klux Klan. read more
Evanescence: The Elaine Race Massacre (Part 4 of 4)

Evanescence: The Elaine Race Massacre (Part 4 of 4)

In my quest to sight an existential piece of Lonnie among the ruins of the Elaine Race Massacre, I had, after all, concluded history can be doubtless and too much and too little abided in the fields and fury of Phillips County for Lonnie and me to inhabit any amicable turf there--too much intervening and unsympathetic time, too much dismay as I turned the leaves of record, which bore too much descent and strife and turpitude, too little comity, too little heart. read more
Noy Holland Hits a Sea Change with Her Newest Collection: A Review of Swim for the Little One First

Noy Holland Hits a Sea Change with Her Newest Collection: A Review of Swim for the Little One First

For the great stories alone found in this collection, it would be a masterwork, but the true game-changer is how the collection works together, going from lyric realism to controlled-yet-wildly reaching stories of imagination in which the author and reader disappear before the potency of story—stories which take our world and invert it and show it impossibly aching, failing, bursting at the epoch of dystopian flounder. read more
Evanescence: The Elaine Race Massacre (Part 2 of 4)

Evanescence: The Elaine Race Massacre (Part 2 of 4)

Blacks hid in the woods, coppices and in the slough that ran roughly along Route 44. Several blacks emerged from the slough holding up their hands, but they were shot and killed. Other African-Americans simply ran, but they too were gunned down--frequently among lineated cotton rows--at the hands of the posses. read more
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