Prose & Poetry

My head drumming the desk is an eternal tinnitus. Not a thwack or a thud. More […]

I heard they take it real slow, out west. I was excited about it. I’m an

I would never survive without you. Our roots are connected underground, converging like the confluence of

You think my parts are superfluous: you want only what you want—nothing more. First the pruning

Born at the base of the Adobes where salt-encrusted mesas rise at discouragingly steep pitches. Stunted

I had always warned you of this rule as a child: to never go to the

“What do you think of these ones?” I pulled three short-sleeve button-ups from the shopping cart

In third grade, I had a woman named Miss Fulton. She had been Miss Fulton the

The Arms Dealer Guns do not kill people. People kill people. I only sell guns. I