Brother’s Peeper

Fiction
By: | April 6, 2010

It began with a collect phone call, a crosscountry Greyhound ride, and a one-meal-a-day budget. Jeffery Digger got off at night, picking his teeth with a ticket stub. Nobody… More

Matthew

Fiction
By: | April 6, 2010

Matthew was a grave little boy. When I say that he was grave, what I mean is that he was not the type of little boy who would run… More

Fault

Fiction
By: | April 6, 2010

“It’s your fault,” the father said to his son. The father wore gold wire-framed glasses upon his bulbous nose. His neatly trimmed white beard covered a softness that often… More

Terremoto

Fiction
By: | April 6, 2010

We had to put my husband in an asylum. My daughter corrects me whenever I use this word; it’s a psychiatric clinic, Mother, she says. According to my daughter… More

A Wonderful Thing

Fiction
By: | April 6, 2010

1. The streetlights cast a hazy yellow glow on the cobblestone road, reflecting lazily off the mist-covered bricks. The scent of confederate jasmine was in the air, along with the… More

Blood Brothers

Fiction
By: | April 6, 2010

Morris Rybeck lowered his eyes from the mute storm clouds in the west, inky with smothered thunderbolts. He leaned forward in the high-cantled saddle and wriggled his hips a… More

Lessons

Fiction
By: | April 6, 2010

Well, I originally contemplated about trying to sugarcoat what I had to say; but in the end, I arrived to the conclusion that it was best to not mince… More

The Little Prisoner

Fiction
By: | April 6, 2010

I was one of the luckiest prisoners ever because I’d done eight months in prison and I don’t remember a single second of it. I was spared the hardship… More

Feather

Poetry
By: | April 2, 2010

A single feather fell from my ceiling I certainly was not expecting that Nor was I expecting such a feeling From inside this jail cell where I’ve sat Minute after day after month,… More

Diary

Poetry
By: | April 2, 2010

i name bridges of every day the morning commute is a bridge connecting the comfort of my bed to the grind of the pens that i push— papers i fold into model F-14 tomcats More

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