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The New York Times Magazine Best Fiction Staff Picks:

Kirsten Clodfelter
Kirsten Clodfelter
Kirsten Clodfelter
Contributing Writer

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Posted by Kirsten Clodfelter on Jul 12, 2011 in Blog
The New York Times Magazine Best Fiction Staff Picks:

Curious to know what you think about this list from The New York Times Magazine, Clarity readers. Agree? Disagree? Which of your favs made it? Which amazing game-changers were you shocked to see left off? Nabokov’s Lolita was named the clear winner, but apparently Chabon’s The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay wasn’t too far behind. Comments and thoughts below, if you please. The NYT article also mentions the...

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Poetry & Smoke: A Manifesto

Elaine Sexton I am for a poetry that makes nothing happen. I’m for a poetry that is too young to date, but too old to overlook. I’m for a poetry that wants to paint. I was thinking of those huge paintings by Francis Bacon at the Metropolitan last summer. There must have been about fifty of them. I was thinking of the colors, the wide open space in them, the intensity of their shapes after the stun gun of subject matter. I was looking...

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Caminito

Nora Ananke
Nora Ananke
Nora Ananke
Contributing Writer

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Posted by Nora Ananke on Jun 30, 2011 in Blog, Essays & Nonfiction
<em>Caminito</em>

…the sign on the corner building read, beside which a street light arched like a back and two tangueros strode across the cover of the leather-bound journal that was to be my first purchase in Buenos Aires. “Little road or journey,” it signifies, though the flight to South America is not diminutive. Distance is not the point, Proust says, of travel, but that discovery in oneself of other eyes. One looks and looks, agape at the...

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Poetry: A Once & Future Thing

Jascha Kessler It is the polity that forever confronts the spiritual company I call The Tribe of the Poets. Future historians will doubtless look back upon the Twentieth Century as an interregnum, a period typical of an uncertain transition from the disintegrating order of one civilization to that of a still-embryonic, coalescent society, whose proper order remains for the future. Such periods of agony are often a mixture of glory and...

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Frog Family

Townsend Walker My parents must have evolved from frogs. Frogs seldom form families or care for their offspring; they just mate and jump. It took me twenty-three years to have a family; my brother Jack never did; and my sisters married Jesus. I was born in the middle of a snowstorm in New York City, January 1913. My father left us in 1914. Didn’t come home one day. Deserted my mother, Jack, Elizabeth, Arleene, the baby, and me. My...

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The Tumbleweed & The Street Lamp

The Tumbleweed & The Street Lamp

Josh Mitchell The recent news of Al and Tipper Gore divorcing after 40 years of marriage has sparked a national conversation on matrimony, a particularly resonant topic for me at the moment. You see: I’m on the other side of the spectrum. I am getting divorced after a mere eight months of saying “I Do.” Despite the brevity of my union, it still hurts like a dart to the heart and I am extremely embarrassed. With that said – I can...

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Birth Rate

Gabriel Duran When I was eighteen I began to carry a condom in my wallet. I can’t recall where I got it, because I had a paralyzing fear of buying them. This anxiety extended to bringing it around with me. I imagined someone going through my wallet, pulling it out and giving me a skeptical look. “What’s this?” they’d ask. “Optimism,” I’d cleverly reply. They would chuckle and give me a you old rogue...

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A Sketch of the Artist as Ephebe

Jascha Kessler Lots of influence. Lots of anxiety. The graduation photo that once stood on the baby grand stuffed into the small living room on the sixth floor just beneath the ash-dropping chimney of the incinerator shows a 16-year old with clear eyes and the carved features of some unknown, handsome youth. Somehow it does not show the acne, although an-aged writer sees in his shaving mirror today its faint scarred pittings. Neither...

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My Father's Heart

Simon Bresler One thing you should know about my father is that he has an abnormally large stomach. The kind of stomach that, if x-rayed, would reveal a picnic bench of five angry truck drivers demanding a 4th serving of fillet mignon and mushrooms (if they happen to be sautéed and available). With that being said, my dad is not a particularly overweight guy. In fact, he spends an hour on the elliptical every morning and works out...

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  • Writer’s Brock – “…the George Costanza method” posted on April 10, 2011
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  • Review: Richard Hoffman’s “Emblem” posted on May 1, 2012
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  • Dreadful Impressions: Dictaphone’s “Poems From A Rooftop” posted on May 8, 2012

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By incorporating music and visual arts Fogged Clarity aims to transcend the conventions of a typical literary journal. Our network is extensive and our scope is as broad as thought itself; we are, you are, unconstrained. With that spirit in mind Fogged Clarity will examine the work of authors, artists, scholars, and musicians, providing a home for art and thought that warrants exposure.
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