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Archives

Fiction

A Real Winner
by Richard Combs
I’m eight years old and in the second grade. If I hadn’t been held back I would have been in the third, and I’m pretty sure that means that I would now be nine instead of eight. I’m a little confused about that.
My mom said that I had been held back to allow me time to adjust....

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How to Make a Life
by Florence Reiss Kraut
By a stroke of luck Elena Rodriguez’ son Alex, standing on the porch of his mother’s two family house in the Bronx and holding his baby daughter in his arms, turned his back just at the instant the car drove down the street.  Who knows why.  Maybe it wasn’t luck. Maybe Alex saw the glint of steel, the gun-flash reflected in the window, just before he turned, taking the bullet below his left shoulder so that it pierced his heart and left his baby unharmed....

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The Education of Arthur Woehmer,
by Doug Margeson
Arthur Woehmer’s education, the education that would define the rest of his life, began with him bouncing a ball against a brick wall.
It was a big, soft playground ball and the wall was high, blank and made of the rough-edged Roman brick that characterized many schools of the time; sturdy stuff, in any case, unlikely to be altered by the concussion of three ounces of inflated rubber. ...

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Creative Nonfiction

Sprinkler Hose: Something
Something Something Phallus Joke

by Brian Anderson
Sitting in an oddly spotless dorm room on the sixth floor of the Centro de Treinamento dos Missionarios in Sao Paulo, Brazil, I was amazed to find my friends engaging in an open discussion on masturbation....

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Hands
by Chelsey Clammer

Your body tears, shatters.
But first, you were walking home at night, thinking about how your ex was an asshole for ripping down every precious picture of you from her office walls, threw them into a box in the middle of your apartment floor, waited for you to discover the silent rage before you moved out the next day.

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A Boomer Thinks about God,
by Jim Krosschell

First, some definitions:
“A Boomer” - I doubt that my parents, bringing three boys into the world in the 1950s, knew that they were contributing to the healthiest, wealthiest, most self-indulgent and individualistic generation in the history of the world. Pete and Kat hoped they were contributing their principles – love of God and country (mostly God) – tithe cause of peace on earth; but it didn’t quite work out that way in my family, and my parents must have been bewildered at the devolvement of their principles into my “lifestyle.”

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Marny
by Greg Leichner
Marny was a self-employed arborist. She lived with her young son Emmett in a century-old cabin on North Lick Creek in Williamson County south of Nashville.
I was a self-employed carpenter. At 40 I was ten years older than Marny. I lived in Seattle.
Marny and I were in the fourth quarter of the fourth year of our long-distance relationship...

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Wearing My Genes: Understanding What Happened
by Kelly Palmer
My younger brother, Logan was having an overnight play date, so it was just Mum and I at home that night. The loud music was irksome, so I found Mum in her room and asked her to turn the volume down. She was lying still, exact. I crawled onto the bed and stared, waiting for movement. Was she dead? …

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Hermitage
by Ruth A. Rouff
I was sitting with my niece Melanie in the living room of her home in Nashville. We were talking about President Andrew Jackson's house, The Hermitage In front of us, Melanie's six-year-old daughter Sarah sat playing with a doll that was nearly as big as she was.

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The Heartbreak Business
by Richard Schmitt
When my daughter went into the horse business at age six, she wisely favored the promotional side—she knew better than to follow her parents into thoroughbred training. She’d seen our daily fights and frustrations, watched our work and worry, felt the despair when three years of work and expense becomes wasted by misstep, bowed tendon, shattered ankle, contrary attitude, mystery malaise, or just plain slowness...

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Poetry

Joseph E. Arechavala:
Stairs,
snowflake,
the mud god

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Constance Campana
Talking to My Mother,
Being Born to My Father

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I Know from My Bed
by Michael Lee Johnson

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J.S. MacLean:
Bluegrass Afternoon;
Crawler;
Time's Arrow, Time's Cycle

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Autumn McClintock:
Indolent;
Darling;
Considering the End of Winter Upon the Death, After Long Illness, of My Mother-in-Law's Brother

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Glen Moss:
Music, Darts and Other Gifts;
Memorial Day;
Walking The Canal

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Rees Nielsen:
A Fool's Bargain,
Two Selections from “The Valiant Sparrow”

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Kenneth Pobo:
Sometimes a Poem,
Lullabye,
Deliberately

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Missionary,
by  Nathanael Tagg

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Winter-Spring 2012 Issue of SNReview (SNR) ? ISSN: 1527-344X--SNReview (SNR) is a literary journal of short stories, creative non-fiction, and poetry, founded in 1999. Member of the Council of Literary Magazines and Presses (CLMP), Association of Writers and Writing Programs (AWP), Academy of American Poets (AAP). This work, meaning SNReview.org, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.