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Happy Pre-Thanksgiving From The North American Review

Man holding his face

Artwork by: Clay Rodery 

Kindness

Been there, done that...

The power of surrender

I live a double life as a poet and a yoga instructor. It’s a curious intersection. The forms are different, but the process surprisingly similar: shedding the unnecessary to find the essential.

There’s a lot of unnecessary to surrender.

In yoga training, there is continuous undoing, from the narrowed brow to the tightened shoulders, held breath, and barricades throughout the body. If we don’t undo these tensions, we train them into the positions we are relentlessly practicing...

Unnamed

Some time ago, a prominent poet and critic posted a question to social media asking for names of Native American poets publishing now. Curious, I followed the thread. The query was met with a variety of responses: A very few people suggested actual contemporary Native American poets, others put forward the names of 19th century tribal orators, long dead. The names of known ethnic frauds, pretendian poets...

Power line

When I was younger, the inability of strangers to guess where I was from satisfied my ambition to hide, to conceal, to cover up everything that had made me into who I was. Perhaps then I could convince myself that I was something else. However, after my mother’s death, I found no comfort in the fact that no one could guess I was from where she had been from, that I was from her. It seemed as if, in fact, it might not be true at all.

My mother was born in Jasper, right in the county...

vent

 

Our Halloween blog features a poem in light of our James Hearst Poetry Prize Contest called "Maria Callas' Tapeworm" from issue 300.4, Fall 2015 by Frank...

Our Halloween treat continues with a story called "Skin Dreams" by Kent Nelson from issue 296.4, Fall 2011. We hope you enjoy it as much as we did.

The room is dark; Justine wants darkness to sleep.  It’s a requirement for her, like silence and warmth.  But now a smooth gray light appears as a rectangle around the heavy-lidded blinds, so I know it’s morning.  I’m lying on my back next to...

The North American Review would like to wish everyone a very special Happy Halloween Weekend. Today we have a poem featured by Anne Barngrover from issue 300.4, Fall 2015.

ventura

...

I hate to start out with a cliche, but art really can make you starve. You can be a stalwart perfectionist when it comes to fine art, be it writing, music or the like. Fine, in that I mean something that builds on our love of the world in which we live, that speaks to the conscience, that speaks to the heart’s struggles, that builds on the true temperament of the human experience.  But, it can make you starve, when you don’t know when to put the pen down, the instrument that bends your will...

An epidemic of deaths hit our family over the five years beginning in 2010. I lost three brothers, a niece, an aunt, two grand-nieces, and a grand-nephew. The youngest to die was one month old, and the oldest had just passed his fifty-sixth birthday. The door to my writing life cracked open to let death in as I tried to make sense of each new loss. Some of that writing became elegies published in the Summer 2015 issue of Mezzo Cammin.

So why does death, or the fear of it,...

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