Two Pieces by Nancy Kricorian
Oh people of long memory, listen, look, speak, remember: your stories are a homeland. More
Salt on the Tongue
Perhaps she needed to find the right place to love. After the birches, behind the burning and scattered leaves, laughter was looking at her upside down. Someone said you… More
Writing on Rikers
They write of homes left behind, of husbands and lovers and mothers and fathers they have disappointed or who have disappointed them, about God who gives them strength, and… More
Petty Blood Sport
He injured me is how we met. He kicked me in the shin in the line for free wine. More
Pomegranate
The cart was gaining momentum. My friend nudged me, said, "Your mother is waving," but I was biting, savoring the burst of red honey on my tongue. More
from Alt Vices
When I feel a human-sized void, is it instinctual that I fill it with a human? More
The Quantum Theory of Suffering or Why I Look at the Moon
I only know this small piece of quantum theory: a thing does not exist until it is looked at or measured. That is, the moon does not exist until… More
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