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	<title>Two Hawks Quarterly &#187; Cross Genre</title>
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	<description>A Literary Uprising</description>
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		<title>Winter 2011</title>
		<link>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2010/12/10/winter-2011-table-of-contents/</link>
		<comments>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2010/12/10/winter-2011-table-of-contents/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 10 Dec 2010 03:00:03 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>aulapress</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[2011]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Past Issues]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Antioch Literary Journal]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Antioch University]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Antioch University Literary Magazine]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Creative Non-Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Cross Genre]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
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		<description><![CDATA[The Winter 2011 issue features Creative Nonfiction from Micaela Seidel, Genre X from Sarah Long, and Poetry from Lek Borja, Michelle "Strawberry" Heymann, Wednesday Hobson, and Jessica Kincade]]></description>
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		<title>Two Daughters by Sarah Long</title>
		<link>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2010/12/10/two-daughters-by-sarah-long/</link>
		<comments>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2010/12/10/two-daughters-by-sarah-long/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 10 Dec 2010 00:42:21 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>aulapress</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[2011]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Genre X]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Winter]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Antioch University Literary Magazine]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[Two Hawks Quarterly]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[When I was a kid my parents moved a lot, but I always found them. They would carry on as if changing the locks was a game all parents played with their oldest child, to trick them into resiliency. They let my little sister have my bedroom one day while I was at school, to make room for the new baby that was on the way. “This house is only big enough for two daughters,” my father told me with a shrug. At night I would sneak in and hide under my old bed, and when my parents would come to tuck my sister in for the night, I’d mouth along the words as they read her my favorite bedtime story. My father tells everyone he has two daughters; their names are Pride and Joy. Occasionally I’ll bump into him in the supermarket, both of us perusing the citrus aisle, and though he can’t remember me, his eyes will linger on my face just long enough to make us both uncomfortable.]]></description>
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		<item>
		<title>Summer 2008</title>
		<link>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2008/08/22/summer-2008/</link>
		<comments>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2008/08/22/summer-2008/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 22 Aug 2008 05:00:14 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>aulapress</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[2008]]></category>
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		<category><![CDATA[Call for Submissions]]></category>
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		<description><![CDATA[Two Hawks Quarterly Issue 2 &#8211; Number 1 &#8211; Summer 2008 __________________________________________________ &#160; &#160; A Letter Not Sent Kristine Ong&#160;Muslim Are They Real? Virginia&#160;Silverman Avoiding Her Art Eugenie&#160;Theall BLOCK Darby&#160;Bailey Bread &#38; Tablecloths Sergio&#160;Ortiz Childless Eugenie&#160;Theall Defeating the Forces of Caf&#233; Amore Laurie&#160;Barton FAMILY OWNED R. Neal&#160;Bonser Forever 18 Casey Cohen Mulling Spices Jennifer&#160;Bradpiece ORBIT Melissa&#160;Mason Reversal of Aging Laurie&#160;Barton RITUALS Lynn&#160;Bey Soul&#8217;s Call Jonathan&#160;Emrys TAGORE&#8217;S KISS Shome&#160;Dasgupta The Art of Giving Devin Galaudet Without Words Philip C. Barragan,&#160;II &#160; &#160; Copyright Information &#160;]]></description>
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		<title>Spring 2008</title>
		<link>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2008/05/22/spring-2008/</link>
		<comments>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2008/05/22/spring-2008/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 22 May 2008 02:30:50 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>AULA Editor</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[2008]]></category>
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		<description><![CDATA[Two Hawks Quarterly Issue 1 &#8211; Number 4 &#8211; Spring 2008 __________________________________________________ &#160; &#160; Between the Bells Gina Maria DiPonio Bugs Morgan W. Strauss Catch Diana Corbin Crawl, Toddle, Walk, Run Darby Bailey Dancing Zachary Ash Dead Man&#8217;s Nail Dennis Fulgoni Dichos, and the Things my Mother Told Me Philip C. Barragan II Dining Alone Darby Bailey Emancipation of Self (Through Loss of an Other) &#38; Others Crystal Moore I Have A Thumb Like Carl Darby Bailey I See Gay People Dale Madison Johnny Loretta Williams Making Movies Martha Woodroof Nobody Thought It Would Rain At God&#8217;s Funeral Mike Rosen The Art of Rush Hour Traffic Josh Stewart The End of the World Book Alistair McCartney the jasmine hedge is intoxicating Gretchen Mattox The Masked Boxer Marykate Linehan The Queen&#8217;s Greens Darby Bailey Time to Repaint the Barn Darby Bailey Untitled Kurt Bloom &#160; &#160; Index &#160; Copyright Information &#160;]]></description>
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		<item>
		<title>Dichos, and the Things my Mother Told Me by Philip Barragan</title>
		<link>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2008/05/22/dichos-and-the-things-my-mother-told-me-by-philip-barragan/</link>
		<comments>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2008/05/22/dichos-and-the-things-my-mother-told-me-by-philip-barragan/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 22 May 2008 01:01:37 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>AULA Editor</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Creative Non-Fiction]]></category>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://aulapress.wordpress.com/?p=422</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[    A Thousand Sad Pieces        Golden light created a soft waterfall through the dense canopy of trees in the mountain village, filtering through the early morning mist rising from the valley below, falling sporadically on the roof of his adobe home. It crawled gently down the walls looking for the window it knew everyday at this hour. It let itself in, freely, completely, flooding the entire room as if it owned it. The butter began to melt. The room was no longer cold. The light fell onto his worktable, splashing over the strips of leather and it’s delicate, worn, sharp tools, and those old nasty shoes that demanded mending. It poured onto the wooden floor and the intricate, Mayan rugs found only in the outlying rural areas. The light rushed up to the bed where she was fast asleep. Her long, black hair covered her round face. She was dreaming of home, wishing for home and wanted to be found.      How long had she been there? How far was she from home? It was a long ride on the horse with him that night. She was blindfolded for most of the journey. She was [...]]]></description>
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