How I Became My Father
“Where are you going?” my father asked, stepping out of his black GTO as I approached the Mission, a halfway house my mother forced me into after bailing me… 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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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