The Eye of the Hagstone

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  The Black River ripples up from the limestone beneath the Ozark Mountains. Standing in its shallows, watching small fry dash and school just beyond the ripples of my steps, I found a rock the size of my palm with … Read More

The Use of Pain

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  Pinning As a child I was terrified of bugs, so I made illustrated catalogs of them. Encounters with real insects meant tears and fits, yet I forced myself to confront them on paper. Drawing as ritual: I would lay … Read More

The Sound of the Crashing

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  Who’s to say what prompted this. Who’s to say if this display of bodily might, this performance of scorned womanhood, is justified, justifying some wrongdoing, some emotion repressed. The skin of his cheek is still red and supple through … Read More

from The Body Papers

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  One morning in the spring when I was seven years old, I woke up a puffy pink monster. My lips had disappeared into a mass of swollen flesh, my earlobes were triple their usual size, and my cheeks were … Read More

My Father’s Teeth

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  My father saved his teeth by lying through them. Somewhere on the border between Russia and Poland, pines and rifles, in the nineteen-teens, he went off to the woods with two other boys to visit the village horses hidden … Read More