Posts Categorized: Nonfiction

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Online Feature: “Dwellings” by Linda Hogan

Not far from where I live is a hill that was cut into by the moving water of a creek. Eroded this way, all that’s left of it is a broken wall of earth that contains old roots and pebbles woven together and exposed. Seen from a distance, it is only a rise of raw earth. But up close it is something wonderful, a small cliff dwelling that looks almost as intricate and well-made as those the Anasazi left behind when they vanished mysteriously centuries ago. This hill is a place that could be the starry skies of night turned inward into the thousand round holes where solitary bees have lived and died. It is a hill of tunneling rooms. At the mouths of some of the excavations, half-circles of clay beetle out like awnings shading a doorway. It is earth that was turned to clay in the mouths of the bees and spit out as they mined deeper into their dwelling places.

This place where the bees reside is at an angle safe from rain. It faces the southern sun. It is a warm and intelligent architecture of memory, learned by whatever memory lives in the blood. Many of the holes still contain the gold husks of dead bees, their faces dry and gone, their flat eyes gazing out from death’s land toward the other uninhabited half of the hill that is across the creek from these catacombs.

Read more…

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Online Feature: “A Cuban Poet in New York” by Pablo Medina

A Tale of Two Cities

The word of my city is that word from of old.

— Walt Whitman, “Mannahatta”

As a child I fell under the spell of two great cities. Until November of 1960, when we left Cuba for good, Havana was my home. Never gray except in winter when a norther blew through it, it was almost always happy and clear, the antithesis of Dickens’ soulless London or Victor Hugo’s sordid Paris. Havana in those days might have had its terrors and sorrows, but it was, above all, a city of activity and hope. It was, besides, the place that first instilled in me an interest in human beings and sparked a curiosity for the physical world—the sun, the sea, the bay—of which it was so much a part. Read more…

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Metallic Grit: Call for Essays on Craft

As you may know, we are currently reading for the Metallic Grit Special Folio. We think of Metallic Grit as representative of the lasting grit whenever intense work and heat are applied in the creation of a metallic object or being. We believe in this hybridity of writing and want to see your interpretation not only through stories and poems but through craft essays. Show us how writing is resilient, how writing matters not only to you but to the world.

This call for essays on craft and writing as resilience will only be valid for this submission period, deadline October 31st Midnight EST. Please be sure to follow the link here to make your submission.

We look forward to reading your work!

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2015-2016 Indiana Review Online Features

Indiana Review Online Features

Marie-Helene Bertino . . . . . . Sometimes You Break Their Hearts, Sometimes They Break Yours
Elise Burke . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sorry For Crashing Your Party and Possibly Killing Your Horse
Catherine Carberry . . . . . . . . Campfire Sing-Alongs for Opposite Orphans
Julie Hensley . . . . . . . . . . . . . Seeing Red
Joseph Kim . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Superstar
Matt Sadler . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Blue Christmas

Hannah Gamble . . . . . . . . . . In a Time of War
Keetje Kuipers . . . . . . . . . . . Some Advice for Both of Us
Rebecca Lehmann . . . . . . . . Bucolic Calling
Jamaal May . . . . . . . . . . . . . Athazagoraphobia (Fear of Being Ignored)
Aimee Nezhukumatathil . . . When All of My Cousins Are Married
Richard Siken . . . . . . . . . . . . Three Proofs

Kate Birch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . One More Artificial Organ
Jackson Blair . . . . . . . . . . . . . Glacier
Judith Hertog . . . . . . . . . . . . Matzevah
Jacob Newberry . . . . . . . . . . The Night Is Filled With Orchards, Every Night
Kathleen Rooney. . . . . . . . . . An Open Letter to World War I Soldier Alexander Bradley Burns of Downers Grove, Illinois on the Occasion of My Father’s Retirement After Six Years in the United States Air Force Reserves, plus Twenty More in the U.S. Army Reserves

Graphic Memoir
Alexander Rothman . . . . . . . What Is Comics Poetry?


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Online Feature: “Glacier” by Jackson Blair


The way through the world is more difficult to find than the way beyond it.

—Wallace Stevens

My office is configured in such a way that I’m blind to coworkers who appear at my door. Each day I sit like a parked car in a cul-de-sac, my backside positioned toward visitors, a situation that forces me to discriminate between the surprisingly varied sounds they make. Thus, I’ve come to recognize knockers by their knocks, foot-draggers by the scuff of their feet, and in one case, a person by a quick intake of breath, followed by a long pause, as with a case of apnea. Read more…