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Full-Text Articles in Arts and Humanities
You Knew The Odds, Julie Scott
Wonder, Walter Casper Iv
Watching Through The Window, Walter Casper Iv
Power Off, Robert Popielarz
Letter To My Analyst, Kara Drebitko
Summer's Last Lights, Dillon Lynn
Remember When We Were In Africa, Dillon Lynn
The Urinal Chats, Mike Wolfe
The Urinal Chats, Mike Wolfe
The Angle
In lieu of an abstract, below is the essay's first paragraph.
"I was fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to meet a person who forcibly embedded himself into my mind during my senior year at Hilton High School. He taught English, or was, at least, paid to make people think so. He was a large and robust man, his body frame reminiscent of the fat, golden Buddha I would see every time I went to eat at Chinatown. His gleaming square head looked like something you should serve Kool-aid from. His protruded and buggy eyes would have made him a target for …
Those..., Edyson Julio
Revelation, Dillon Lynn
Agoraphobia, Kevin Mcallister
The Tree By Which I Cried, Kevin Mcallister
Out, Kevin Mcallister
Yellow Room, Kevin Mcallister
Full Issue, No Author
Preliminary Pages, No Author
Papa, Sarah Christy
Leggende Albanesi, Sidita Kushi
The White Witch, Selena Cochran
The White Witch, Selena Cochran
The Angle
In lieu of an abstract, below is the essay's first paragraph.
" 'Jared, wait,' Shante whimpered. 'Someone could walk in any moment.' 'I thought you liked that sort of thing,' he teased as he suckled her neck and shoulders. 'Jared! I only did that once,' Shante whined. 'Well, they say two's a charm,' he whispered pressing her toned body against the conference room wall. 'No, they don't,' she moaned, sliding her leg up over his bulky frame onto his waist. She grabbed a fistful of his auburn hair, yanking his head backwards. He yelped.'Don't make me get physical, white boy,' …
Tarnished, Destinee Paynter
He Crowded Her, Sarah Christy
Grotesquely Edward, Jamie Lasda
St. Lawrence River, Laura Donk
St. Lawrence River, Laura Donk
The Angle
In lieu of an abstract, below is the essay's first paragraph.
"The boat thrust forward under the power of his arms as he pulled back the oars. Smoother, harder, faster as he went. He had no intention of stopping. He was in his own head now. Harder, faster, the oars back and forth, harder, faster. In his own head not seeing, not hearing. The ripples and the waves that he created were crying out to him, "Stop!" The river helplessly cried out for his attention but the river's concerns were not his. Not now."
Conjurations Of The Sacred Traveler, Eric Szewczyk
Nights' Lights, Tom Jewell
Solitude, Amanda Marchese
More Opposite, Julie Mariuz
Danger, Passion, Selena Cochran
Danger, Passion, Selena Cochran
The Angle
In lieu of an abstract, below is the essay's first paragraph.
"It's much too dangerous to think about passion. Not the chintzy, wussified run-of-the-mill slag kin to the sappy droning of today's lyricists, or the crude rhetoric eternized in tasteless soap operas; not even the sickening popularity of tawdry mantras immortalized on hats and t-shirts. No, not these; but true passion, real passion is like a deep, throaty hunger that kicks and rages at your innards, feeding on your convictions until quenched. It gnaws - bathing the psyche in awes and crippling fears - emasculating sense and logic. Yes true …
Autumn, Julie Mariuz
Bathing In Serenty...Soap, Anybody?, Destinee Paynter