by Angie Powers | Nov 25, 2011 | Magazine Vol. 1
K. on Broadway She was the kind of girl who gathered like a storm, gaining momentum in every moment as she churned by the water’s edge, toes curling in the foam, her complexion perfect as the sun hid behind the bank of clouds, waiting for the next big event to present...
by Angie Powers | Nov 24, 2011 | Magazine Vol. 1
Harpies don’t speak Hindi, either There are no words for thank you and goodbye in her language; no words for harpies in Hindi or what to say when they land with a thud on the rooftops and interrupt our lunch hour and fourth period. Here is what we don’t know about...
by Angie Powers | Nov 23, 2011 | Magazine Vol. 1
Endora I loved her for her spunk, that flaming red hair, her unwillingness to concede that her witchery was anything less than a god- given right at eventual perfection; her prowess and ability to outwit the warlocks, her fun at the expense of her hapless mortal...
by Angie Powers | Nov 22, 2011 | Magazine Vol. 1
“Lucy in the sky with diamonds” Sherri was the one to steal her brother’s comic book, cut out the Peanut girl body and place it in the slideshow. The popular girls chatted and snickered while I tore through cellophane to make a plasticine porter; together we made a...
by Angie Powers | Nov 21, 2011 | Magazine Vol. 1
“Precisionist” She learned the geometry first from painting skyscrapers, mathematics clean and focused like a camera lens — hers was a world void of condition, social or human, and soon danced the abstractions in front of her unblinking eye. Each winter, a...
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