The Fourth River

Viewing: October, 2016

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Two Poems by Philip Terman

By on October 28, 2016

    Willie Wheeler My job’s to wake them up. 6 A.M dark, driving to the home for “intellectually disabled” youth— crystals of snow on windshield dissolve and are swept away: snow, glass, sweep—you could lose yourself in the steady

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Tributaries: “Budapest Underground”

By on October 26, 2016

By Elizabeth O’Connell-Thompson     Artist Statement: “As a poet as well, I appreciate that my photography gives me a chance to think and create non-verbally. As much as I love words, sometimes the sheer volume of them bouncing around

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Fiction: “Veyo, Forgotten by the Mormons,” by Ryan Habermeyer

By on October 21, 2016

We were in the tall grasses creeping on finches when we seen mama run down the slope in her Sunday finest and throw herself in the creek. Papa stood there scratching at his hair like he was fixing a nest

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Tributaries: “News”

By on October 19, 2016

By Jelle Cauwenberghs   A group of children sat huddled like a raft of survivors around a small island tidal with shards of green glass and pottery, their feet behind a stockade of twigs. The sea was left to their

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The Fourth River O.3: Celebrating 10 Years of the Melanie Brown Lecture Series

By on October 17, 2016

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Tributaries: “Dawnbreak”

By on October 12, 2016

By Christopher Robey   October 20th, 2013— You wait, you watch, you listen, and the land speaks…   Splayed out flat on the deer stand’s plywood floor, I scrawled these words in the margin of a journal page. I screwed

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Poem: “Beheaded Deer, The Power Lines Near Brewster Lake,” by Kate Belew

By on October 7, 2016

From The Fourth River, Issue 11   Listen to Kate Belew read “Beheaded Deer, The Power Lines Near Brewster Lake”   It was too late by the time the last sparks flew. I had already been tangled in the webs

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Tributaries: “Jesus Year”

By on October 5, 2016

 By Christopher Martin I would’ve never believed that this age, here and now, I’d be sitting in this rust-stained tub, soaking in vinegar to relieve chigger bites speckling my legs, wounds amassed the other night walking a meadow along Allatoona