About Holly Van Hare

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So far Holly Van Hare has created 25 blog entries.


Sarah Jane Justice

They’re digging up the train tracks by my house.

Living crushed under a constant level of noise that never lifts, I had long since stopped measuring where the months lurched into years. I had spent too long growing accustomed to the weighty drone of metal wheels that rattled my windows deep into the early hours. I never thought to fear the quiet that could take its place. The horn blaring of artificial dinosaurs kept me up at night, leaving me squirming and red-eyed as I counted the few […]


The Onyx Orb

Carolina Isabel Marcos Garza

There’s a something that is harbored
under the floor of my being.
I first spotted it some years back.
Finally, I think I understand it.
But this does not mean
in any way
that we have reached an alliance.


I try tactics of negotiation.
If you let me go on a date night with my boyfriend

I’ll let you have twelve hours of sleep.

If you let me eat […]

The Onyx Orb2021-01-07T22:28:23+00:00

The Familiarity of Breakage

Dariana Guerrero

In transit
             body suspended
in motion—a standstill.
In a linear pattern,
I transcend time or space;
the dilapidated buildings screech past,
become etchings of a life, once inhabited,
by people, once inhabited,
and I remember the last time
my body—was a house,
broken, in need of repair,
shards of glass,
sticking out
of the knobs of my bones.
The broken is familiar.
It is
the […]

The Familiarity of Breakage2021-01-07T22:28:18+00:00

Take Two, They’re Big

Robert Beveridge

By the time it gets to you, the river
is nothing more than a muddy creek.
That most of the time isn’t
a problem. But then you get the out-
of-season rain, the snowmelt,
the kids who chase mallards,
catch walleye to sell to the local
sushi restaurant. The clock ticks
down, the burble becomes a rush,
and all the drunks who live
under the bridge are washed
into the kind of lake that has

Take Two, They’re Big2021-01-07T22:28:12+00:00


Ann M. Lawrence

I tried to hold on to the moment
before wrinkles developed on fingers,
wrists, toes. No one told me before
you were born, I was completely unaware
the lines would be missing.
The smooth skin barren
of the marks age, time, life will map
on your small body, but I missed it. One day
they were there, marring each joint.
In the blackout, lasting for days, I allowed myself
in the dark, sitting by your side, to run […]

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