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  • Nonfiction > Heroes
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    On the surface, Edward Abbey appears to be the quintessential rebel. He fits all the requirements for filling in the American mold of the rebel on which society thrives. He wrote lyrical pieces on the beauty of a desert breeze from the safety of his typewriter, able to watch the shrinking desert fr...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    The words slipped from your swollen lips, Hitting the hollow of my chest. I saw your cheeks, stained with tears And broken bloodvessels, And the half-eaten chocolate cake, forgotten On the stovetop. I didn’t know what to do but embrace, Stand there awkwardly, your cheek pressed To mine....
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    I’m sorry I forgot to say I love you Not that you said it either But still. You bought me snacks and gum And I just grimaced at the fleck Of brown in between your Two front teeth. I feel like *** And I’m sorry And I’ve already cried four times today, But what’s another guilty t...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    It’s 12:35 on a Wednesday And your leaning against my red Subaru (mom’s), Alternately taking puffs of Camel light (5th one today) And bites of cheesy olive bread ($1.59 on sale at Safeway). I can’t believe you’re getting an American flag tattoo This weekend. On your chest, for Chri...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    The Rhythm of Falling Tears Sitting on her back deck, ten o'clock glow The warm breeze floating through the screen door Like memories through a mind On fast forward. Norah Jones softly wafts through the empty neighborhood The systematic ticking of a nearby sprinkler the only other sound. ...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    Paper Box The field a million realms of possibilities And I stand here, arms wrapped around my waist, Trapped in that paper box Folded so carefully. The wind takes my secrets to the mountaintops, winding them around the tips of the clouds, Like you around my pinky. Stardust clings to the ...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    I am not placed on the earth to focus on its errors. I am not here to listen to the rain, to watch it gather in puddles at my feet. I am here to dance under those grey clouds, and to let my hair get wet. To embrace what this life has given me, to embrace the fortunes Of which I've been blessed...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    her body, collapsed in defeat on the sidewalk, no longer has a name. she is a glove with a hole in the thumb, a thin wool hat, an empty coke can kicked to the curb. her nails, which should appear soft, are crusting at the corners and jagged at the ends. maybe if she ate a little more, ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    you’re as sweet as the sugar pan of rio the words dripped from your mouth like water from a leaky faucet i’ve been meaning to fix it but just haven’t had the time or so they say. the look in your eyes like straight black coffee no sugar, no cream, no nothing almost makes me wince t...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    the look in her eyes, deep blue eyes, tells the story of a day gone by too slow. of a life sat poolside, watching her reflection, wondering if she'll ever learn to swim. her jagged crew cut an open diary of the anger released with a pair of scissors. the smooth skin on the sides of her che...

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