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Staying at home with my books and out-of-tune piano / and a cat who loves me only when she’s out of food is nothing new. / I’m OK. Thank you for asking. I have become quite used to sending / thoughts and prayers to those who keep the world going round / while I spin old punk records — Dead Kennedys, Buzzcocks, Crass — / lamenting days long past.
By Norman MinnickJanuary 2022I put aside the previous rejections and try again. This time I don’t mess around with coffee. I don’t want anything that might allow her a graceful out or result in a request to be friends. I have friends. I ask her on a dinner date.
By Sandra Gail LambertNovember 2021My eyes filled again. Filippo came by and murmured, “Think of the little light in your chest,” and somehow I understood him. I don’t know how. I let the light shine.
By Michelle HermanOctober 2021found amid the rolls / of gift wrap: / a Trader Joe’s receipt / from December 23rd / eight years ago
By Michele HermanJuly 2021What happened next I shoveled into that dark ditch of my psyche, and then I covered it with heavy stones, and it wasn’t until more than twelve years had passed that I remembered what I’d made myself forget.
By Andre Dubus IIIJuly 2021I was unable to protect my children from heartache. I couldn’t keep them from the pain of it. But I could ease their journey by helping them light their dead hamster’s funeral pyre.
By Andrew JohnsonApril 2021He came back. I saw him / in the grass, the white of him / glowing in the floodlight, / the wind turning it off / and on again. / I saw his face at the door, / waiting to be let in, / his nose leaving smears / across the glass.
By Jin CordaroDecember 2020The cows showed up just as the world began to end. They were there when I returned to Minnesota from Manhattan, where I’d gone to pick up my older son after his spring 2020 college semester had been canceled.
By Jennifer BowenAugust 2020Featuring Michael Pollan, Craig Childs, John Elder, and more.
July 2020In this desecrated area, the women searching for firewood must dig up the roots of the trees they have long since cut down to make space for crops.
By Jane GoodallJuly 2020Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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