To The Last Bullet

Grease-stained clouds, the tanks are leaking and the rebellious sunset, a power plant, the grand prize.

Ballad of the Muted

Up the steep stairspainted white by former slaves,you twist the handleas if breaking off grapes.You ask, “What day is it?”but … More

Healing Waters

Yesterday evening, I reached 50,000 words in my novel, Fascination. It’s a dystopian book about mental illness and how society … More

Biking to the Beauty Parlor

Biking to the beauty parlor,early morning dewglossing grassy tips.Dodging dirty masks,McDonald’s foam cups,and crumpled colorless napkinslittered like lesions along the … More

Martin Luther King Jr. Day

Mother Emanuel I am Mother Emanuel.Listen, can you hear my bells ring?Nine times in remembrance of June 17th.I recall Charleston, … More