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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    You refuse to listen to the song that you used to call "ours" There are too many memories and it keeps you awake. And so you avoid it. And the months pass on And you feel a lot better. You don't mind being alone. And one day you hear the song by accident And you feel nothin...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I tell people to call me Max because it’s easy. I’ve never been one for patience. My maid vacuums the rug around my lifeless body, spices that seep from mahogany pores like patchouli incense. Profanity curdles my sentences into worms that fry on the sidewalk in afternoon sun. This is it. This is...
  • Opinion > Social Issues / Civics
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    There is a pressure on youth by society to be the same. But there is also a pressure by society to be different. The people who praise themselves as different are really only the same as the other different people like them. But difference is not to bend away from norm or bend into it. Difference is...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I do not wish To touch The eels That curl around your slender frame nor Do I want to dip my toes Into untroubled waters. I do not wish To watch The rising Sun bloom ‘cross your back again nor Do I want to rip The paper taped against my window. I do not wish To see The poison d...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Come take a ride With this salt-water Dream Boat A handsome young man with a burlap sac. He knows the difference Between polyester and cotton And wraps himself gently in cucumber scent. He tends to fall For those cornflower girls But you can be his exception, Hush- Puppie Queen. He’ll call...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    The King lands, in a flash of velvet green, on the stem of the climbing flowers outside the gate. He shakes, a fluttering heartbeat, a vibrating emerald on a ruby onyx backdrop. He is alone in this waxy twilight, periwinkle sky, a sea that smells like papaya juice. He hops a stem, talons that curl...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Empty words, paper moccasins. The Shepherd glides across the mountain, lamb-less, without a tongue. He lands in custard waters, glistening silver. Behind his eyes is nothing; only a quivering promise. She calls to him, but he won’t look back. Crisp breaths. And then he dives, and the sk...
  • Nonfiction > All Nonfiction
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    Celia learns her father’s cheating and she can’t tell anyone. She’s the oldest of four, two sisters one brother, and as she cries the wind blows through the balcony balmy and hot against my neck. Textbook pages spin like windmills against each other, catching on the pencil lead and slowing to ...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    A Last Knot in this Braided Life “I told another lie today.” And so it starts again. The glazed stares, a weak attempt at conversation. Her eyes are bloodshot, from insomnia or something else, I wouldn’t know. She takes a slow sip from a chipped mug, grey, the color of her eyes. Froste...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I'd be sitting in the red lawn chair, spitting pits into a white paper napkin with a film of sweat across my lip and smoked pork smell slipping across the fence and settling in the fresh-mowed grass. And you would take my hand with a coppertoned ­finesse as I fluttered my lashes in old glamour ­...

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