My Father’s Violin
My father played his violin every evening, standing by the upright piano in our dining room. Hearing him play was my first memory, and I can no longer recall… More
After Prison
I have 10 minutes until a call-out to see the mental health case manager I call Mr. Forgiveness. I don’t want to see him, not because he is always… More
How Should I Look?
Would you prefer I meet your expectations, / Grasp your neck with yellow-clawed fingers, / tobacco-stained tips squeezing off your airway, / Sour breath tinged with yeasty fumes of… More
Siddhartha’s Loop
I been goin’ to the Jersey shore since I was a kid and ain’t never seen a condom or syringe wash upon the sand. The only thing hazardous was,… More
Planted in Concrete
I stood and stared at the vent on the wall above the toilet in my cell, holding a ripped piece of my sheet in my hand. I knew the… More
Examination
For a long time I wished someone would break my nose, but nobody has ever had the guts, or, more likely, the time to do it. After a while… More
Accomplice
It was a treat whenever Cameron jumped on his Huffy and bicycled his way from his Barry Circle apartment complex in Bloomfield to our home in the next town… More
The Last Visit from the Girl in the Willow Tree
She took a hammer and busted a chunk of her summer just to come see me when my life was on the line, behind glass in jailhouse oranges. More
The Purple Horizon: A Short Story about Dying
They asked me about the last time I spoke to the fugitive, that’s what they referred to him as. Not as Elijah, not as my son, just as the… More
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