Category Archives: Nonfiction

I Believe in You (Sketches on the Younger Child)

By Ben Tanzer

From the essay collection Lost in Space (March 2014, Curbside Splendor Press).

 

1.

Charlie, the junkie one-time rock star on LOST, is a younger brother. In the beginning he is a serious musician, and a good boy, proper, and studious. But that is before he follows his older druggie brother and charismatic lead singer of their band down the road of groupies, addiction, excess, and rot. This shouldn’t surprise us, however. Younger brothers idolize older ones. Older brothers are both substitute parent and friend. They have the wisdom that comes with having lived longer, and they are happy to impart it, right or wrong, to their most loyal audience. Charlie ultimately cleans up, falls in love, does good, and finds redemption. But he still dies on a God-forsaken island off in some magnetic geographical zone that maps cannot track, much less locate. I am hoping for better with Noah.

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Sun in the Palms: Thirteen Flashes for My Mother

by Nancy Kline

1.

Flash!  One minute to the next.

Short circuit in the brain, struck dumb.

When I get the call, I am eight hours away from her, by car.  It takes me six, foot to the floor.

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Pointe

by Alison Stine

Pointe shoes, the wood-enforced slippers that allow ballet dancers to stand up on their toes, are dirty, hard, painful and ridiculous—and for several years, they were all I wanted for Christmas.  The bright pink satin of the shoe is a shell.  It conceals a hard wooden end called the box, squared off into a platform and molded with cardboard.  New, the soles of pointe shoes are unyielding; we had to break their backs by bending them again and again with our hands like cracking open glow sticks or shaping the bill of a hat or the palm of a baseball glove.  Some dancers held their shoes over boiling water, to steam them into shape.  The long pink laces, called bindings, were tied so tight they cut into our flesh. Continue reading

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Counterweight

by Erich Schweikher

This conscious attempt to see is producing sensations of searching
As in a museum – or walking off balance, hurrying forward in order to compensate for the weight of my eyes and even then leaning – I am drawn from one thing to another Continue reading

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Indian Creek Solitaire

by Kelly Sundberg

“The earth remains, and the heartbreaking beauty where there are no hearts to break Continue reading

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