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From the Archives: Digital Issues 1 to 5 Available Again

When Plenitude Magazine first started in 2012, we published traditional issues in print and digital versions. Five issues in total were published before we transitioned to an online-only format, with content posted regularly each month to our website. The first five issues were no longer digitally...

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Literature Oliver Brooks Poetry

In My Molting Season

When you tell me to run, I can’t help but wonder if you really mean me or the busy blue heron to the right of me, its neck like an enchanted oboe charming the residents of the river where fish swarm in wild despair—because surely this danger is a farce, surely not all gators bite. To the insect...

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Fiction Literature Renée D. Bondy

Hunger

I was a gluttonous child. From their first tentative offerings of pap, my parents knew I wanted more. They could see it in the way I grabbed at the spoon and the bowl, the way my nostrils flared and I screeched when they were not ready with the next bite. They discarded The Common Sense Book of...

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Gordon Taylor Literature Poetry

Short Turn

fog swirls in my water ~  glass ~  rain hashtags the window ~ heaven ~ was closer to earth ~ in ancient Greece ~ goddesses wore the same cloaks as us ~ strolling in marketplaces ~ pulling lightning from pockets ~ in the shape of windflowers ~ aster and iris as currency ~ to pay for pomegranate ~...

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Literature Poetry Sean O'Connell

I don’t keep blood in my beer

I used to go dancing at the Painted Lady I used to go dancing in the afternoon lazily drinking youth and afraid of nothing but afraid of nothing except missing cheap oysters When the beer I tasted really mattered and how I tasted the beer I tasted really mattered When it mattered that the appetizer...

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Fiction Isabel Armiento Literature

Wasting Sickness

Why we continued to celebrate the new year every 365 days when it took this planet almost double that to revolve around the sun, I never understood. I’d have preferred the planet’s natural rhythms, forcing us to mark time in a slower way. Maybe then I wouldn’t find myself at the end of each...

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Khashayar Mohammadi Literature Poetry

Fall. Née Autumn.

Orientation desk music have YOU read Proust? God. the invisible sex of it. Claire. the eagle-eyed spectator. My substance: Honey. tea tea then nothing. London roads narrow my sense of dying. you love this shit. Joe, like wheat. a shared renaissance! Fall. Née autumn. words. soft. pedal. on dental...

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