I was twenty-one years old the summer Elaine and I backpacked into Three Sisters Wilderness. I was an urban creature, from a long line of same. My grandparents had emigrated from Greece and Italy, landed in the Bronx, and never went farther. They were factory workers, saloon keepers, a butcher...
The purpose of this exercise is to prove that red, at a deep enough depth,looks blue.*That light runs over the same beige bramble of brain.*I believe in the dialectic.*This hopscotch across hedonism, this day held up, cowlicked, & humbled byanother.*It’s a handle if you don’t forget it’s a hatchet—the blade’s question mark at thetop.*More people... Continue Reading →
The best lie he ever told me was about the bull on his grandfather’s farm, an atypicalcreature all the cousin-childrenplayed with, brushing his hide, nuzzling him between the eyes, treating him like a beast prepared for better pastures but still consentingto human contact, almost like a workinganimal. Of course there was no bull, or farm belonging to his grandfather;he hated his... Continue Reading →
"Roberto, not again," said Josephina Burgos, groaning. "How many times must you tell this story?" "But we love this story, Papi!" cried Ofelia. "Please tell it again, just this one time!" Roberto took a sip of instant coffee from his mug and stared thoughtfully at his family, who had gathered around their white laminate-top dining... Continue Reading →
Summer. The most dangerous season in Texas. Remy watched a praying mantis decapitate a brown-spotted grasshopper. The grasshopper’s body twitched as the praying mantis devoured everything except the legs. The fed praying mantis retreated into the bristle grass and Remy collected the grasshopper legs with a pair of soft forceps. He dropped them into his... Continue Reading →
Lost in Obscurity and Other Stories by Debasish Mishra (2022) is both touching and bittersweet. This book is not just a “collection” of disjointed short stories but rather a clever coordination that tie events and characters together. For example, Chottu and Raju, two childhood friends in the first story, “The...
Black is a Most Beautiful Colortoo. Through the prism of science, whiteis the presence of all colors, blackthe absence of light and color.But our skins are not science yet glistenwith its presence, brushed pigments of pimento,radish, dandelions, onion, charcoal. As a boy,the summer burnt blueberry skin of the Bahamianfishermen who graces me his artfulness,rolls a... Continue Reading →
The tables in the work hall at MetLifewhere lawyers drafted wills for all pro-bonoyawned laid out in roomy rows too plushfor barracks but as graves might be arrangedThe chairseats soft as soil did not scoldand slid with ease atop the charcoal carpetout and in When we were donewe quit the gray fluorescence all refreshedfor midtown's... Continue Reading →
The curtains pullcross the landscapebehind my eyes—the way they doon days like this—emergedfrom sleep,from splashes of waterin the basin,and black coffeepast a sugared tongue.Praised be drip-dried epiphaniesthat swirland stir ‘neath drowsy lids,over smoking toastersand morning papers,rousing consciousnesswith gentle shocksike chewing aluminum foiland the last lick of a taser’s kiss.There’s a blue sky outside.A blue blue,The... Continue Reading →
rain falls from its sieve, separate but equalreflections mistaken for my faceat firstat lastpassing headlightsswing and stretch from drop to dropa veil of unity false.splatter of sifted dropssyncopated and dissonant.memories. past injusticescling, like oilto the puddle’s surface sometimes though distorted i cannot pardon the glimpse of my own skinheadlights emerge and mergingcrashing. destructionthen drive on... Continue Reading →
