The Fourth River

Tributaries

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Tributaries: “Nuchal Origami”

By on December 28, 2016

BY KERI WITHINGTON   If I could untangle umbilical cord, measure calcification, label isosceles, scalene, acute, copy your construction, its strict geometry I could find comfort at your steel altar meditate to the wasp buzz of power; electricity thrums from

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Tributaries: “A Woman Escapes Herself in the Redwood Forest”

By on December 21, 2016

BY KAT LEWIS When her boot slips from rock into mud, the silence is broken. The distant careening of creek over stone, bellow of a bird somewhere close to the constant buzz of tiny insects near the ear, but not.

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Tributaries: “Geography of a Steel City”

By on December 14, 2016

By Allison Brooks   Here I am the proverbial stranger: My foolish mouth, my pig-shit mind, drops verbs of being sweeps them up from this slippy floor. I was forged stupid, then, by lunch pails and Catechism. Mid-west, where thunderstorms

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Tributaries: “Learning to Drive”

By on December 7, 2016

BY DENTON LOVING Sunday afternoons after church, after miles of my pleading, my dad pulled off blacktop, onto the gravel lane leading home. My Dad and I, at the mouth of the hollow, played Chinese fire drill, Mother relegated already

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Tributaries: “Naming the Lake”

By on November 30, 2016

By Sarah Ann Winn   One of five reservoirs. Not a lake, but my lake, Hower Lake. Islanded, my land grown by dredging, then, once the depths were scoured, raising water levels, lowering. Shores once submerged, emerged, every year differently

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Tributaries: “a dim morning to wake”

By on November 23, 2016

By Austin Anderson     snow along the top of fences breaking sun on cinder blocks at dawn there is no ponderosa no tamarack stone molded cement walls & patio three stem wild rose dead & hanging on bamboo pole

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Tributaries: “Grey”

By on November 16, 2016

By Juleigh Howard-Hobson   Clouds, thick with black middles and grey edges That spread out to almost white where the sun Tries to break through…but can’t, of course. No wedges Of light may push their way through. It’s not done

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Tributaries: “Night in Taiwan”

By on November 2, 2016

By Robert  Anthony Siegel   1. At sunset, the heat lifts. In the plaza in front of the supermarket, lines of women dance to the music of a boom box, everyone in unison. 2. Motor scooters zipping by, the girl

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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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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