On Your “Justice and Open Debate”

I've been thinking long and hard about what to say on this and I have settled on the following: Okay. Not even thank you, because I feel as though all of you who cosigned this laughable decree of pseudo-oppression are locked on to this idea wholeheartedly. You don't deserve gratitude. Okay, as in at least...

Toolbox and the Junkyard

I remember during undergrad, sitting in a small conference room, waiting for my professor to enter. The class was intermediate poetry and I felt the familiar nervo-excitement I always had going into my creative writing classes, but especially poetry. Prose is easy. You string words together, make a foundation, take up as much space as...

Leka

For my mother. The girl was born Leka. It is the name that comes back to her most often, dipped in the honey of her grandmother’s voice. The name had been taken from her. Scraped away by miles of gravel and track, sweat out by Georgia summers. She feels like that about most everything from...

What Can We Enjoy?

Like most other folks, I read the news. In fact, I consider it my responsibility to read the news because not being informed or paying attention is not an option for many of those directly affected by what is going on in our world. So, I must pay attention and be informed so that I...

Short Story 1

I woke to a room in shades of pinks, whites, and golds. I tried to recall where I had been before, only to find the memories pooling and dripping through my mental grasp, splashing into a dark pool of void. The brightness made me blink, my eyes straining to adjust. I checked my limbs, flexing...

Prose 1

Sündrus, Kufran Empire Esha scratched at the bug bite on her arm until it bled. Pink welts blossomed on her exposed flesh. “How much farther,” she whined, despite the curiosity that kept her moving. She'd never been this far outside of walls of Somarsend. “Just a little more,” Cassian said. Her brother held back a...