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Charles Tarlton: The New Hire

Charles Tarlton: The New Hire

THE NEW HIRE   This would be Hampton Davie’s third academic job in as many hard years since he’d got his Ph.D. in poetry at Winston. He started out prestigiously enough, teaching the introduction to American poetry and a seminar on Wallace Stevens at Bisby University, but that had not worked out. He’d quickly got another position, a little farther down the rankings, at Rolling Rock, but that, too, had dissolved in his hands. Now, he was at Button College,…

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Donal Mahoney: Behind the Barn With Carol Ann

Donal Mahoney: Behind the Barn With Carol Ann

Behind the Barn with Carol Ann     Back in 1957, kissing Carol Ann behind the barn in the middle of a windswept field of Goldenrod with a sudden deer watching was something special, let me tell you. Back then, bobby sox and big barrettes and ponytails were everywhere.   Like many farmers, Carol Ann’s father had a console radio in the living room, and every Saturday night the family would gather ‘round with bowls of ice cream and listen…

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Donal Mahoney: It’s Almost Sunday Morning

Donal Mahoney: It’s Almost Sunday Morning

      It’s Almost Sunday Morning          In the summer of 1956, any Saturday at midnight, especially when the moon was out and the stars were bright, you would be able to see Grandma Groth sitting on her front-porch swing waiting for her son, Clarence, a bachelor at 53, to make it home from the Blind Man’s Pub. He would have spent another evening quaffing steins of Heineken’s.          Many times that summer before I went away to college, I’d be strolling…

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March: On the Cusp

March: On the Cusp

Tis a strange month, March. Both Winter and Spring, cold and temperate, it transitions us from Death to Life, fallow to green. Depending upon the region, depending upon one’s position on this earth, by design or chance, this month will bring us all great changes. For Spinozablue, March brings us poetry by Virginie Colline, and fiction by Donal Mahoney. For this editor, March takes me closer to the lighthouse, and another rereading of the masterful, brilliant goddess of prose, Virginia…

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Donal Mahoney: Mike Fitzgibbons and His Morning Paper

Donal Mahoney: Mike Fitzgibbons and His Morning Paper

Mike Fitzgibbons and His Morning Paper   For 35 years, Mike Fitzgibbons had never missed a day driving off at 4 a.m. to buy the newspaper at his local convenience store. Snow, sleet, hail or rain couldn’t stop him. There was only one paper being published in St. Louis at the time but Mike was addicted to newspapers. He had spent his early years reading four papers a day in Chicago–two in the morning and two in the evening. He…

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Sky Mixing

Sky Mixing

For February, Spinozablue brings its readers new poetry from Breda Wall Ryan, Damien Healy and Donal Mahoney, as well as fiction from Rosemary Jones. A pattern of Celtic voices by coincidence, not design – with an Asian twist.    *     *     *     *     *    Recently finished Peter Englund’s excellent history of WWI, The Beauty and the Sorrow. What makes this book so special for me is the democracy of voices, the voices on the ground and in the skies,…

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Rosemary Jones: Notes to an Apprentice Sky Mixer

Rosemary Jones: Notes to an Apprentice Sky Mixer

Notes to an Apprentice Sky Mixer      This morning, a new portion of sky. A piece of skylight blue that has travelled like a package in a freighter from an indeterminate field of orbit to land on my window sill. No address. No note attached from the sky mixer responsible. Scrutinize closely for evidence. This piece of sky is an elemental blue, the kind I’ve seen perhaps once or twice before. A rare breed, shunted off from a vaulted…

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Happy New Year, 2013!

Happy New Year, 2013!

We have new fiction from Lara Dolphin and Donal Mahoney, an essay by Robert Mueller, and new poetry by John Saunders. 2013 is off to a very good start. *     *     *     *     *  Watched a flawed by still interesting movie last year, “The Words.” It’s about a writer’s dilemma upon discovering a truly brilliant novel, in an old briefcase. He reads the novel and is stunned. His own writing career has hit a wall, and he’s on the edge…

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Donal Mahoney: Coal Mountain

Donal Mahoney: Coal Mountain

We Were Irish, Don’tcha Know   In 1948 Booger McNulty’s coal yard stirred constant gossip among the citizens who lived in the little bungalows on the narrow blocks in my far corner of Chicago. That was more than 60 years ago, a time when families took Sunday walks and went back home in time to hear Jack Benny on the radio.  A Sunday walk didn’t cost a cent, a price my parents could afford. My sister and I always had…

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Lara Dolphin: House Hunting Through Space and Time

Lara Dolphin: House Hunting Through Space and Time

 House Hunting Through Space and Time with Rhonda Hillap   In the Yed Posterior system, the widely loathed planet DSM-IX gave rise to a race of lumpy beings known as Quacksalvers whose uncommon penchant for diagnosing their neighbors’ maladies drove everyone mad. (Yed Posterior should not nor could not be reasonably confused with Yed Prior, the commonly hailed region known for inventing naps.) At first, folks thought the case studies would lead to helpful therapies. Then, the Quacksalvers began peddling…

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