Statement of Record

The Latest

Three Poems about Abigail Adams

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Roaslind Kaliden

Abigail should have her own statue on the stony top of Bunker Hill,4
a dozen children at her feet, a few founders, a few presidents,
a rifle at her side, and books stacked waist high.
Behind her a woman wearing a banner for The Vote,
a black man signing his name in the front of his Bible.

HITCHHIKING WITH THE GHOST OF JIM MORRISON

H
by Dan Williams

Hitchhiking with the Ghost of Jim Morrison: Golden sun and blue sky. It’s there, always there. There, even now, behind that gray cloud-carpet suspended above the Pacific Coast Highway. I am standing at the onramp to this scenic highway with my thumb in the air, a bandana-wearing hippie-hearted hitchhiker...

A Christmas up North

A
by Anita Lobel

“It’s a miracle,” laughed my very Jewish daughter-in-law, when I called. “It’s a real, fucking Christmas miracle. Do you like it?” I hadn’t even opened the box when I rushed for my new phone. “Whatever it is I will love it,” I cried.

Jackalopes

J
by Kathryn V. Jacopi

Trevor hated them, normal people who didn’t have staff telling them when to shit and clean the toilet. Neuro-typical idiots with their secret club, handshake and rules.

A Reformed Santa Claus, 1911

A
by Dorin Schumacher

I don’t know why Vitagraph made this scene so long. They didn’t make any long scenes like this with me, probably because long scenes like this are obviously too boring and I’m too amazing.

Asking the Impossible

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by Jennifer Parker

It was a very short local news story which reported a bunch of children who had gone missing in a local suburb. Then a few months later, another very short follow-up report says the children suddenly all came back

It’s not about the Battle

I
 by Jennifer Parker

Arrested at the age of eighteen, convicted and sentenced to fifteen years to life in prison, Warner was swallowed by a machine of injustice, fueled by a political climate that was obsessed with convictions.

Wrong Trail Down

W
by Dan Williams

To end it all on a slip, a loose rock— it seems arbitrary. Cruel, even. Cruel that God would allow that. Cruel that nowhere is it ordained that death ought not to happen in this fashion, a slip on a mountain trail. Cruel that the story could just as well end in that instant...

Three Poems by Laura Cronk

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by Laura Cronk

We’ll go back
to my apartment and
open the door and the
kids’ faces will pop
with happiness. They’ll
run toward us, ram their
heads into our stomachs,
so eager to be held...

Morganatically Wed

M
Stu Watson

and who are we to stand
displaced in all our promise
as if the legends don’t continue
and we have not met regret?

Walserian Criticism: A Manifesto

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Aaron Newman

Some folks will dismiss Mr. Walser as a critic. They will say he sorely failed, that he confused his genres, mixed his fiction with his nonfiction, and got his tongue tied up by double-dipping into the real and the unreal. In a word, by being ekphrastic in his criticism...

Statement of Record