The Cosmology of Humpty Dumpty - J.G. McClure

Note the poem’s nightmarish opening: this uncanny character—at once everyman and no-man, perhaps an egg though this is never stated—sits upon a wall. Where is this wall? How did Dumpty come to be sitting upon it? Surrounding this proclamation we see no answers, merely the barren whiteness of the page.

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Do Stars Welcome Us Into Their Realms? - Dana D'Amico

Imagine, if you can, one single, stranded molecule in space –not even a pinpoint in the darkness.  In the whole of the universe, a molecule is truly an island to itself, its nearest neighbor some ten million molecular body-lengths away. If it were a person on Earth heading east from San Diego, it would not see another person until New York, and these two friends might then hike, swim, and wade their way to Denmark before finding anyone else. That is how isolated it is, this thing you cannot quite imagine: a solitary something vanished into a sea of nothing.

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Superman Dam Fool - Randal O'Wain

My mother and I were driving downtown so that I could re-enroll in Junior High after an arrest and suspension. It was a humid Memphis spring, and two men leaned against the sidewall of a liquor store sharing a bottle wrapped in brown paper. Painted on the wall behind them, the words SUPERMAN DAM FOOL covered the length of brickwork, each letter composed uncertainly as if by a different hand.

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Pins and Needles - Janet Buttenwieser

"Mornings before work, she performs the routine: validate the parking garage ticket at the front desk. Enter the dimly-lit ultrasound room. Clothes off, gown on, open in the back. Jelly on the wand, the wand inserted by the kind or peppy or indifferent nurse. The Wife’s reproductive system displayed on the screen, the doctor measuring follicles, pleased with her progress."

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At the Setia Darma Museum of Masks and Puppetry - Angela Woodward

"Ongoing nausea even three weeks after my return. Got so sick of my own company. Every time I looked up, a little golden bird flitted by, or an azure butterfly landed on my foot. After not having heard from him for all that time, a short note, a kind of affirming prayer. Very little to put in the journal, she wrote, as the days are all the same. Across the river, white herons followed the farmer around, lifting and flapping down again as he moved along the row."

 

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