A Good Dude
The whites are loosely arranged by hometown and run together as a car, or collective. It’s like a gang, but with no real structure. White power inmates largely call… More
Seven Thousand Yesterdays
Robert Earl was 64 years old, whip thin and frail-looking, though he was still in pretty decent shape. He wasn’t stooped, but he had a weighed-down way of standing… More
A Day in the Life of a Prisoner
Everyone smoked in the old days, and convicts made picture frames and jewelry boxes out of woven cigarette packaging. People made cardboard shelves and curtains for their cells. It… More
The Target
Three days before Tuesday, I told him. He bought box cutters and ducktape. My father dropped his face into his Wilt Chamberlain hands. The items gave my story the… More
Bringer of Fire
“Bugs? You got me for fucking bugs?!” He savagely backhanded me and I fell to the floor, the taste of copper in my mouth. Standing over me he screamed… More
What She Knows
She gathers an empty bottle washed / ashore and tosses it far to sea. / It sinks, fills, becomes ocean, / I see through ages—it settles / by a… More
Kite to Kierkegaard
But there is no wisdom / That needs to be shouted / Whispering it blisters / A capriccio in braille. More
The Destitute
The / ceiling hovers like a heavy mist, / dark and putrid, thick and barbed, / chocking any head held high. More
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