HOME FREE By Andrew Chinich

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HOME FREEby Andrew Chinich  I grew up next to a grave yard. My alarm clock for school was dirt and gravel bouncing off the lowered coffins.From...

NOTES GOING UNDERGROUND By Joram Piatigorsky

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NOTES GOING UNDERGROUNDby Joram Piatigorsky   Ladies and gentleman, thank you for inviting me – an ordinary man who, like most, thinks himself special but knows he isn’t – to deliver my own eulogy...

STRANGERS By Jeff Bakkensen

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STRANGERSBy Jeff Bakkensen No one ever came to the motel without being seen a long way off. From one side was all flat with nothing growing more than thigh...

THE RACIST INSIDE US, AN EVOLUTIONARY PERSPECTIVE by Bill Portela

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The Racist Inside Us, An Evolutionary Perspective THE RACIST INSIDE US: AN EVOLUTIONARY PERSPECTIVE By Bill Portella Out of three-billion sequenced DNA codes in the human genome, chimpanzees share 99% of our hieroglyphs letter for letter. Would eyebrows...

THE SHARPENING OF A KNIFE by Christy Bailey

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Decay perhaps, or maybe erosion is a better word. The wearing away of outer layers. The gristle at the center exposed. We’re not talking about lovely river rocks, smooth and bulbous. Their...

REMINISCING by Yvonne Blackwood

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Hazel breezes into town this balmy summer’s day, a day I never imagined would be her last visit and our last time together. She arrives in Toronto to spend time with her...

THE LANDLADY By Robert Steward

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    THE LANDLADYby Robert Steward  Paris, France 2001“I like your clothes,” I said, before taking a sip of my café au lait.“Thank you, Robert.” My landlady touched her headscarf. “I make them myself.”Her silk floral...

THE APOLOGY OF MASLOW by Nate Tulay

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THE APOLOGY OF MASLOW( For Miss Caroline and Flocka )by Nate Tulay "esteem""self-actualization""belonging”"safety,""physiological," Friends, if you had food, water, shelter and warmth, i.e., physiological, and you...

THE SUICIDE OF MY YOUTH By Debra Basco

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THE SUICIDE OF MY YOUTHby Debra Basco Drinking as early as 13 years old was already a pattern for me, drinking hard liquor was my norm.  The years are...

SUMMER 1961 By John L. Stanizzi

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SUMMER 1961 (excerpt)By John L. Stanizzi THE BEACHI don’t recall who decided that it would be a great idea to follow the dirt road at Station 27 down to the...