Burn by Chloe Chun Seim

Burn by Chloe Chun Seim

Saturday morning. Hours before you’re due for your sister’s college volleyball game, before either you or your mother shuffle out of bed and greet the mildew and cigarette smoke layering your apartment. The doorbell comes to you first as a wren’s warble in your dream...

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My Cousin Ruth by Marlene Olin

My Cousin Ruth by Marlene Olin

February, 2017.  We’re sitting at a swank, expense account kind of restaurant. I’m in D.C. for the AWP conference and visiting my cousin is an added perk. Since I’m stranded at the downtown Marriott, Ruth has come to me. Once her father worked with mine building...

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Katrin Arefy: Reflections

Katrin Arefy: Reflections

Friday, February 11th The piece has a quality of an unfinished work, almost dirty, almost messy, that makes it raw and vulnerable. The unpolished quality brings me closer to the artist. It’s like having a coffee with the master in his pajamas and robe. This strike the...

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Place by Alexis Ivy

Place by Alexis Ivy

Spent three years with a viewof the reservoir, the train wakingme and the sun waking me, nakedand no one sees. I'll missthe brass-gate do-it-yourselfelevator. Fifth floor, end of the hall,my door, crooked somehow,I added a lock to that door.Just one bolt wasn't...

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Amy Bagwell’s Ode to 2020

Amy Bagwell’s Ode to 2020

are these early bumblebees mating? no. they’re dyingof thirst I learn when I forget not to look anything upuntil this long year of universal hallucination is donewith us. ready with eggs these queens wake from winterwith the first flowers. they must find nectar and...

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Book Launch!

Book Launch!

We're back to readings! If you're in Philly, check out the witchy launch of Christina Rosso's short story collection CREOLE CONJURE (Maudlin House). Featuring readings by Nick Gregorio, Rachel O-Hanlon-Rodriguez, & Galileo Press author Tara Stillions Whitehead....

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Looking for the Owl by Scott King

Looking for the Owl by Scott King

It's the sky above me in the branches,the suspending, run-on branches,holding the moment still.There is no face, only breath and fog.I look up. It's almost morning.There are no sounds except the sounds of the city waking--car doors, engines, a distant dog.Two mornings...

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Free State Review is a literary journal that comes out every 8 months. Want to know what we're into? Peruse our site and/or order a copy, then hit us up!

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