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selections from journals

Loving Bald Men

from "Brevity"

…The first time I touched a bald man's head I was a grown woman, and I read in the elegant bones of his skull my future for the next few hours at least. Who could refuse such a landscape? Houston, TX.

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winner of the Wood Prize from Poetry

Without the law, there is no brother, and no ceremony to mark the breaking. Christmas Eve from the box packed away last year we uncover the stocking stitched with your name, not knowing what to do with it. ...

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Annual Conference, 8000 Writers Expected

from "River Teeth: A Journal of Nonfiction Narrative"

. . . Once years ago at the Large Planet Bar an Important Writer kept calling me Roberta and after I corrected him four times I knew it was time to go to bed and not with him.

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from "The Gettysburg Review"

"…a narrative and meditation on cancer, it's about shock and surrender, assertion and resistance, survival and revival. I think it's a masterpiece."
– R. T. Smith, editor of Shenandoah

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Early Morning, Downtown 1 Train

from "The Georgia Review"

In this car packed with closed faces, this tube of light tunneling through darkness: two sleeping boys, so close I could touch them without reaching—their smooth brown faces,

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And We Shall Be Changed: New York City, September 7-11

from "The Kenyon Review"

… a wondrous essay, evoking the rich vibrancy of life in New York City even as the events of 9/11 shadow the horizon. Rebecca McClanahan, one of the finest practitioners of the creative essay in America today, daringly weaves the city and its creatures into a memorable and resilient testament: the world was changed, but New York endures.
— David Lynn, editor of The Kenyon Review

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