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	<title>FragLit</title>
	<link>http://fraglit.com/flit</link>
	<description>an online magazine of fragmentary writing</description>
	<lastBuildDate>Fri, 12 Mar 2010 05:09:07 +0000</lastBuildDate>
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		<title>Haunting Memories</title>
		<description>Fall 2009 :: Issue Five

Editor's Note


  
    Merina Canyon
    Flash Flood
  
 
    Wm. Anthony Connolly
    The Strange Loop
  
  
    Olivia Dresher
    Mood and Memory Fragments
  ...</description>
		<link>http://fraglit.com/flit/archives/156</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>Editor&#8217;s Note</title>
		<description>It&#8217;s hard to believe that two years have gone by since the first issue of FragLit appeared in the Fall of 2007. Since then, our mailing list has grown and more writers are linking to FragLit at their blogs and websites, bringing in a continual flow of new readers and ...</description>
		<link>http://fraglit.com/flit/archives/157</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>Flash Flood</title>
		<description>Merina Canyon

(1)

Your name is Chaos. That&#8217;s what your partner, Freedom, has been calling you for the last few days.  You decided to take the name Chaos when you read a quote in a book you brought along on this river trip:  &#8220;Give up control; live in chaos.&#8221;  ...</description>
		<link>http://fraglit.com/flit/archives/159</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>The Strange Loop</title>
		<description>Wm. Anthony Connolly

I just saw a picture of someone I knew, briefly, for a short period of time, a long time ago. Just now he was in front of me as he is today, in a picture smiling and frozen in a family moment, uninhibited and not concerned that one ...</description>
		<link>http://fraglit.com/flit/archives/175</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>Mood and Memory Fragments</title>
		<description>Olivia Dresher


Tomorrow. Yesterday. Today. Now.
What did those words mean to me when I was young?
They meant time travel.
Even feeling Now felt like time travel.
Every time I said the word tomorrow or yesterday or today,  my body would buzz. 
I felt I was flying, flying back or flying forward or ...</description>
		<link>http://fraglit.com/flit/archives/160</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>Passing the Door</title>
		<description>Richard Jay Goldstein


Now you remember, you remember how it begins.  It begins on the steep wet streets of san francisco, where you are a u.s. navy sailor, on liberty from your ship in the bay.  You are a very young man, eager to wander drunken down dark empty ...</description>
		<link>http://fraglit.com/flit/archives/161</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>Paris</title>
		<description>Richard Goodman
			     
Sarah and I are staying at the Hotel de France, not far from the Eiffel Tower.  We have known each other forty years.  We met and became lovers in college.  Then she got married.  And divorced.  And so did ...</description>
		<link>http://fraglit.com/flit/archives/162</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>Fragments from an Alzheimer’s Journey</title>
		<description>Esther Altshul Helfgott

1

He&#8217;s Sadness 
and thin, 
scared, 
confused&#8212;
a bird looking for its mother

There is no pill for this
not for him, 
not for me

I give him a pear.
He eats it all&#8212;
bit by bit 
until 
it&#8217;s
gone.

2

Today I wheel him 
to the window
where he points outside

and says:
He&#8217;s dying

I say:
Who&#8217;s dying?

He says:
That guy


3

More and ...</description>
		<link>http://fraglit.com/flit/archives/163</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>Untitled: Portrait of a Homeless Art History Student</title>
		<description>Andrew T. McCarter

(The following selections consist of the first 20 fragments from the unpublished manuscript.)

1. Newspaper Photograph

You are looking at yourself. 
A photo of yourself published in a newspaper clipping dated January 30, 1990. 
The headline reads Missing Student.
It has been 15 years since you disappeared.

You were an &#8220;A&#8221; student ...</description>
		<link>http://fraglit.com/flit/archives/164</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>Monika in Memory</title>
		<description>Greggory Moore

I saw her only the one time.  The sex was good, but no better than I&#8217;d enjoyed with others during so many similar encounters.  She spent the night, in the morning collected her clothes, dressed in the bathroom, left.  There was the obligatory exchange of phone ...</description>
		<link>http://fraglit.com/flit/archives/165</link>
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