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Tag: Fiction

Uzodinma Okehi: Buck Rogers Ring Tone

Uzodinma Okehi: Buck Rogers Ring Tone

Live to Relax!   Maybe I’d told Teena so many times that I convinced myself! Over and over on the phone, or as we strolled the East Village, I depicted myself to her as a kind of great civil rights hero. She could laugh, but the way I chose to combat the evils of the world was by being just sincere and deliberate about everything I did. Maybe the clarity of this was easy to overlook, given that I spent…

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Eric Muller: Sundial

Eric Muller: Sundial

Sundial   Her ring finger moves back and forth along the lip of the Burgundy wine glass.  Slowly.  Her tongue touches her chapped upper lip, mirroring the movement.  She sits in a leather wingback armchair, covered with three alpaca wool blankets that have lost their color.  Her eyes peer through horn-rimmed glasses and are fixed on a crack in the velvet curtain.  A slit of light steals through.  Motes of dust swim in and out of the guillotine shaft that…

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Unchained Heart

Unchained Heart

  Spinozablue’s August edition features a new film by Shabnam Piryaei, art by Mark Zlomislic, fiction by E.K. Smith, and poetry by Valentina Cano and Howie Good.   *     *     *     *     *    The story of Cuchulain has me thinking about panthers. Black panthers. Not because they appear in the myths. As far as I remember, none do. Nor do we see lions, leopards or tigers. Panthers are relatively small and powerful, sleek, taut and coiled, and they explode…

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E.K. Smith: The Lion’s Share

E.K. Smith: The Lion’s Share

Plastic Lion     She watches intently as I place my oversized suitcase on the bed and slowly start to unpack. Her deep brown eyes have little stars in them, birthed from the howls of ravenous wolves. Sometimes I forget she is not my daughter, her complexion mimics mine so perfectly. I pull out an old pair of jeans, fold them, and put them in a drawer. She rubs her tiny flat nose with the back of her hand, leaving…

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The Hound of Ulster

The Hound of Ulster

 Am nearly finished with a wonderful novel, Morgan Llywelyn’s Red Branch. It tells the tale of Cuchulain, the great Irish hero of the Ulster Cycle. Ms. Llywelyn paints an earthy, rugged and raw portrait of Ireland in ancient times, and imagines a passionate life for Cuchulain, along with his wife Emer, Deirdre of the Sorrows, King Conor Mac Nessa, Fergus Mac Roy and Maeve, queen of Connaught. She does a remarkable job of staying very close to the original source…

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Shanna Perplies: La Vie en Violet

Shanna Perplies: La Vie en Violet

La Vie En Violet   I slipped off my robe, trying to appear casual, as if it wasn’t my first time. I had assured him I’d done this many times before. I tried to look anywhere but his face, because he must know by now I had been lying, the red blush staining my skin and revealing my inexperience and self-consciousness. I looked up at the window, high, forbidding, and remote, then down at my feet on the splintered and…

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Carlos Fuentes Está Muerto

Carlos Fuentes Está Muerto

Carlos Fuentes passed away on May 15th, 2012, at the age of 83. He will be remembered by this avid reader for his novels The Old Gringo and The Death of Artemio Cruz, along with his wonderful short stories, especially those in Burnt Water. His non-fiction is also very strong (This I Believe & Myself With Others), and pairing it with Milan Kundera’s heightened the effect of both for me. Both men being advocates of the democratic voice in literature,…

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May Day Additions & Another Riff on Sameness/Difference

May Day Additions & Another Riff on Sameness/Difference

Spinozablue has new poetry, fiction and photography on tap for May. Valentina Cano, Emily Ramser, Christina Murphy and Ben Nardolilli grace this site with their poetry; Penelope Mermall with her fiction, and Eleanor Bennett with photography. Emily and Eleanor have something in common. They are both in their teens. Their work, however, along with those already mentioned on this fine May Day, combines future promise and present achievement. *     *     *     *     * So, I’m reading The Three Pillars of…

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Penelope Mermall: Inner City of the Mind

Penelope Mermall: Inner City of the Mind

                                                       Baby Jesus         I drop in late nights and sink into a place that settles round me in a hush and the sight of bent backs lined up at the counter soothes me some. The waitresses own a toughness that remind me of shoe leather and sweep past at a swift clip with plates piled in the crook of arms. I sit in a booth looking out on a town where street lamps throw a foggy…

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Under the Weather

Under the Weather

  We have some new fiction on tap, by Nels Hanson: In Pace Requiescat. Persectivalism, elective affinities and religious sensibilities. What is a hero? Why do some of us view the same people in such radically different ways? Your comments about the story are welcome. *     *     *     *     * I’ve been a part of the flu crew for more than a week now. Still can’t kick it. It’s a strange time, and brings on feelings of pure selfishness and…

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