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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    She used to tell me love stories Weave them together till they were as real As the sweep of my hand across her smooth skin And the tingle of my lips as they brushed across her cheek. Tell me more about how, Sidewalk cracks are made by falling stars And I’ll tell you about how Heartbrea...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The air chokes the life out of me, Grasping my larynx with a gust-o, And my last breath Dancing As it has a million times before And shall a million times more. Seductive It slithers and turns with breaths alien Til my breath, mine own breath, The very essence of my ...
  • Opinion > Social Issues / Civics
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    On a sunny day, an eight-year-old clutches a sign as another child might hold a doll. Printed on it in big block letters are the words “God Hates F*gs.” Signs with similar sentiments were displayed at the funeral of Lance Corporal Matthew Snyder, who was killed in Iraq by a roadside bomb. Me...
  • Fiction > Romance
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    The landscape was broken, of that he was certain. Rugged browns seemed to blend into twisted greens and icy grays, giving the scenery the impression of a watercolor. The sun had begun to set, casting strands of orange light onto his gaunt frame. He extended his hands, attempting to grasp the light t...
  • Nonfiction > Memoir
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    She called me Phillipo. It always seemed to comfort her, coaxing a smile onto her weathered face and making her sad eyes shine. “I clean, Phillipo,” she would say in her heavily accented voice. And clean she would, all the while singing woeful melodies in a foreign tongue. When her day w...
  • Fiction > Romance
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    The chill of the night air made her breath appear before me, dancing gracefully as though it were alive. Her broken eyes gleamed in the faint glow of the moon. Her cheeks bore the skid marks of the tears that had already fallen. I held her close and felt her body shiver beneath mine. Nothing was sai...
  • Nonfiction > Memoir
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    His bright blue eyes were his only youthful traits left. They seemed to follow you around the room, never stopping, always alert, always in pain. His face was wrinkled, his mouth set deep as though someone had carved it in as an afterthought. His hair was snow-white, and he had grown a beard. He sme...

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