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By Robert Claps Poetry

Our bare hands redden as we work, / he high on the ladder cutting the old / connections, and I drilling / outlet hole through the siding.

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The Assumption of Miriam from a Winter Street, 1942

By Jerzy Ficowski Poetry

incalculable snow was coming down heaven in tatters was slipping down thus she was ascending passing motionlessly white after white a mild height after height in the Elijah’s chariot of her humiliation above the fallen angels of snowflakes into the zenith of frost higher and higher hosanna raised to the lowest   Translated from the…

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By Walter Wangerin Jr. Short Story

1. AUNT MORAVIA SAID that she had swallowed a glass piano. She was my father’s aunt, a stitch of an old woman. She’d come to live with us when I was seven and my brother Robbie fifteen. Mother had been bedfast for a month before the birth of my sister. In the meantime Aunt Moravia saw to…

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