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By Eric Pankey Poetry

The death of one god is the death of all. —Wallace Stevens When you left it was as if a glacier retreated, As if the ice tonnage, which rasped, scraped, and scoured for ages, Diminished in a moon’s single phase to a trickle of meltwater. I live in the aftermath—till, eskers, erratics, cirques, exposed bedrock.…

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Prayer for the Spirits of Montreal

By Mark Rudman Essay

For Armand and Ros de Mestral 1 Like many great cities Montreal is on a river. But the Saint Lawrence is not what divides it. We stay in the heights. I don’t have to leave the garret atop this three-story house on Thornhill in order to transcend. The view contains immensity, sun easy on the…

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St. John

By Peter Levine Short Story

MY OLDER SISTER calls to tell me about him. She is upset. Not upset, but worried. She said she saw him—a guy she went to high school with, in line at the grocery store. This was in the town in which we grew up; she moved back and I moved far away, didn’t have any intention…

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The Vermin Episode

By Jacob M. Appel Short Story

WE’D HEARD RUMORS of the difficulties that had befallen our neighbors, the Samsas, but we’d certainly never expected to become embroiled in their misfortune. In the five years that they occupied the flat opposite ours on Charlotte Street, while their familial habits offered us no grounds for complaint, they had held themselves conspicuously aloof from…

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Always Now

By Gregory Wolfe Essay

ARE YOU CONVINCED that everything is going to hell in a handbasket? Down the tubes? Or are you possessed of a more sanguinetemperament? Do you feel that life is getting better every day in every way? Do you believe in progress or regress? What would the make and model of your handbasket happen to be?…

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