The Bookends Review
Established in 2012, The Bookends Review is a standalone creative arts journal that focuses on showcasing exceptional original works. It features a diverse range of content, including fiction, nonfiction, poetry, interviews, essays, book reviews, and visual and musical art from across the globe.
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#5434309
United States
#1781623
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Articles
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3 weeks ago |
thebookendsreview.com | Jordan Blum
I used to be jealous of the rising tide, for it could never leave Just lap at jagged teeth and spray its foam upon your sleeve My blindness felt the seagulls flee, their mocking heard no more Yet still the tide, it rose in time, to crash on rocky shores I know why the kestrel races, on the hunt for freckled faces In the beaches, ports, and harbors, raving for its saving graces In the alleyways, for forty days, I heard them caw In the burning trees, I heard their pleas, their throats so raw I...
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3 weeks ago |
thebookendsreview.com | Jordan Blum
That damn commercial. It kept airing in between game shows, its sentimentality breaking up the raucous flow of applause and flashing lights and cartoonish contestants. A little girl calling her grandmother on an iPhone and telling her about a sunflower she drew at school while the grandmother looked out the window at the lone sunflower in her yard and smiled. After about its 50th airing, Lottie powered on her father’s old desktop computer and ordered an iPhone on Amazon.
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3 weeks ago |
thebookendsreview.com | Jordan Blum
Did I feel reformed? I can’t say. But, as I watched those heavy, black gates dizzyingly sweeping to a close, one thing was certain – I never wanted to see them again. That day, with the last rays of the sun, a period of my life ended that I wished never to relive or recall again. The railway station was teeming with people, fortunately for me. After all, where could a person hope to attract least attention if not in a crowd?
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3 weeks ago |
thebookendsreview.com | Jordan Blum
I’ve seen her fragmented,with pupils swollen, overfilling to black,not mourning the absence of color. My neck tilts—revealing her skull to be a collection of shards. Yet, always her mouth curls up,the corners pointed to satisfaction. Tonight, the moon strikes her. Rotted prisms bark back at me. I peel along my damaged skin,scraping the imperfection,hoping my blood gives her new life. Battered hands grip my sunken cheeks,holding the feeling of rageful wax.
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4 weeks ago |
thebookendsreview.com | Jordan Blum
Getting them into bed is easy. Once there, many get the wrong idea. “It’s not that kind of club,” Nemo chides, grabbing her hands before they snake below his waistband. Pouting, the USO girl toys with the filmy mosquito net draping the bed. “I’ll be very quiet.”“I’m sure you will,” he purrs, playing along. “But first, sleep. It’s part of the experience.” Nemo hands her a NightCap elixir. “Be a good girl.
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