Your tired rebuttal, “What about me?” has been rejected by the remaining sane member of the jury. And yet, like the freed prisoner, or bird, who finds themselves unequipped to navigate a world without the prescription of a cage, we found ourselves recreating the same conditions under which we’d been born. Maybe it’s because injustice…Read more Dear Panzon
short story
4th Street
Neither one of us were expecting much, since it was a holiday weekend and everything was booked. We’d driven most of the way in total darkness, aside from the headlights of gridlocked traffic on the opposing side of the road, which felt like accusations. You didn’t see this coming. You didn’t plan ahead. I told…Read more 4th Street
Wings
On our way there, we pulled over to take a picture of the profusion of wildflowers. Bordering on obscene, they sprung from the earth, tickling the belly of the sky which hung bright, blue and heavy over acres of untamed fields. While some flowers are edible; red clover, chocolate daisies, dandelions, this feast satisfied a…Read more Wings
Mal Nuit
The smell of the sheets gave her away. She's a stripper. (I love my sisters) Why are we in her bed? There's no where else to sleep. It could hardly be called a bed, though this was sadly, infuriatingly familiar. A mattress pad on the floor of some glorified closet. Had I learned nothing? Had…Read more Mal Nuit
Born in Providence 