The Destitute

The / ceiling hovers like a heavy mist, / dark and putrid, thick and barbed, / chocking any head held high. More

Chessman’s Lunch

I poke at my salad, / sip water from a plastic cup / my corner fiefdom overrun now by strangers / a compromised rook / removed from the board More

Bleak Housing & Black Americans

The United States seems not merely to tolerate but actually to revel in inflicting barbaric human degradation upon prisoners—not just for months or years, but for decades and lifetimes... 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

Catching the Setting Sun

“Mama, why does the sun go in the water?” “To let us sleep, son. To let us sleep.” “Why do we have to sleep?” “‘Cause we tired. Ain’t you… 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