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From:New England Review (Vol. 43, Issue 2) Peer-ReviewedMy student overdoses the morning I learn my sister has been using. My student dies. My sister will overdose, later, but she will survive, pulled through by Narcan and luck. I am bleary-eyed in the sleet of a New...
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From:New England Review (Vol. 43, Issue 2) Peer-ReviewedUntil I first visited in 2013, I knew Beirut--and Lebanon--mainly from images or impressions from Lebanese-French or Lebanese-American friends, and from the Lebanese poetry and prose I had read in French, in English, or...
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From:New England Review (Vol. 43, Issue 2) Peer-ReviewedTo introduce the issue that lies ahead, I thought I'd say something about the great themes of domesticity. About how relationships, family, home life, intimate life, just might be the ultimate literary topics--how such...
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From:New England Review (Vol. 43, Issue 2) Peer-ReviewedI am at O'Hare, in one of the three cities I call home. It is just a few miles from my Chicago neighborhood, Portage Park, where my gregarious neighbor Gary lived and died, where there's a swimming pool in the park, and...
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From:New England Review (Vol. 43, Issue 2) Peer-Reviewed--Toward some maybe future book: a straight progression off what happened. Elaboration of the journal, this journal. Prose. Or prose and poetry, when poems suit. One long whoosh. The usual suspect as speaker--me me me....
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From:New England Review (Vol. 43, Issue 2) Peer-ReviewedNOVEMBER 2017 Wind is jarring dry leaves off neighborhood trees. Revealed squirrel nests resemble poofs of smoke refusing to disperse, hovering as if engaged in a process of transforming back into the matter flames...
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From:New England Review (Vol. 43, Issue 2) Peer-Reviewed
McNeil, Karen^Faiza, Miled Nobody gets lost in Beirut. It's a city that you can cross, one side to the other, in less than an hour. People may get lost in Cairo, in Rabat, in the Gulf. In Europe, people get... -
From:New England Review (Vol. 43, Issue 2) Peer-ReviewedI want to tell you how this unfolded without judgment, but every sentence is an arrow pointing somewhere. Already, this, as if there were one thing; unfolded, past tense, as if it has ended. The subject of the November...
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From:New England Review (Vol. 43, Issue 2) Peer-Reviewed
Hirschhorn, Norbert Day 3 Nightmares can't rival this hell. One-half million dead, Their terrifying eyes fixed on our hollow selves, Stares coagulated on the cobblestones. One-half million dead, nightmares...