Mare Hieronimus

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Musings on Tundra by Mare Hieronimus

I am trying to make sense out of the intersection of literature/narrative and dance. In the creation of Tundra, I started with a series of questions. What is it to be a woman in the world, alone?

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Two Poems by Dianne L. Knox

Mow Me DownHe was mowing the ditch, not with a string cutterbut with a heavy moweras I walked by he felt he needed to...

A Simple Machine by Eric W. Schramm

A Simple MachineThe noose that was used to hang John Brown is allegedly in the permanent collection at the Massachusetts Historical Society. Frayed and wild...

Three Poems by Reginald Harris

Untitled: On the Bus (A) Black men (man) glance (s)at each other (me)then quickly look (s) away.A quick check (-ing out),a look to size (each...
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