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The inaugural issue of The Dillydoun Review is scheduled for online publication December 15, 2020.

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TDR DAILY FICTION ESSAY POETRY INTERVIEW REVIEW

Relic

A Poem by Sarah Plummer We’ve become transient in our daily dealings,like hobos peddling emotions from dark saddlebags,casual and lonely. At night our bodies are cathedrals inhabited by godless tourists — crowding into each other,finding symbolism in each breath,praising the dim fresco of your chest. “It must have taken years to paint such detail across […]

I’m a Riverboat Boy, Poem on Halsted Street

A Poem by Michael Lee Johnson As sure as church bellsSunday morning, ringingon Halsted and State Street, Chicago,these memories willbe soon forgotten.I stumble in my life with these words like broken sentences.I hear and denounce myself in the distance,mumbling chatter off my lips.Fragments and chips.Swearing at the parts of me I can’t see;walking away rapidly […]

Trained Her Well

A Short Story by Philip Goldberg Another night, and once again the Runner hugged the building walls, still damp from the rain that had stopped falling not long ago. The scrawled messages and spray-painted symbols glistened on the wet concrete. Water drops dripped from the barbed wire wrapped around every mailbox. She passed it all […]

On the Shores of the St. Lawrence

An Essay by Chad W. Lutz Two falls ago, I decided what the hell and attempted a rim-to-rim-to-rim crossing of the Grand Canyon in Arizona. Just writing it out makes my right knee hurt, which is exactly what happened. But the knee is fine now, and the IPAs I’ve imbibed have more than neutralized any […]

Dream What Dreams

A Poem by Paul Pruitt Do I dream the Red King, or am I in the Red King’s dream? Do we Each the other dream, or do we dream, Both, one dream of mutual exercise? Am I contained in his dream, free— More so than we may be in waking life— And have I freed […]

Winter Prayers

A Poem by Julia Ponder This will not be the last congregation of sparrowsto gather in the empty winter orchard, and comb in it for left behind skins and stems;each picks and plucks between the muddy aisles of apple treesscanning the scripture of dirt for secret thawed places hidden in snowwhere their answered prayers lie. […]

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2020-12-15T18:40:00

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That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you’re not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong.

F. Scott Fitzgerald