I’ve just become a better writer. I didn’t attend a writing conference, finish a book of prompts, or get a piece published. In fact, strictly speaking, I didn’t do anything. Life happened. As a result of this particular occasion, words,… Read More ›
Life
The Switches
She giggled under the weight of the comforter. It was a nice reminder that we’d be okay. We’d learn to accept the changes we couldn’t control, cope with the losses our family endured, and celebrate the gains that would make us… Read More ›
The Field Across the Street
We simply called it the field. It was the vacant plot across from our house, just off Alta Mira. We’d say, Hey we’re going to the field. She’d tell us, Watch for cars. In the field, our curiosity fueled imaginations… Read More ›
I’m Just Seine
The repurposed barge pushed us along the Seine. Intermittent raindrops peppered the river and gave way to the as-advertised romanticism that surrounded us. The cool air was tempered by the moment: we were exactly where she wanted us to be. … Read More ›
Square Routes
I like to write and think about the little things. I can’t help but think that there are endless avenues that lead towards a more satisfying moment, hour, or even day. They are small little details that pack a big… Read More ›
O Grity Seen
Sometimes, if you look hard enough at a word, you can find hidden meaning between and among its letters. Don’t just break down the prefix, root, or suffix, or try to dig into its linguistic history. Instead, stare at the… Read More ›
Miss Quito Was Here
We swatted in a midnight haze at a mosquito with a familiar craze. Could it be the same one that punished us for my excessive limoncello session the eve before our wedding? Same place, more or less,… Read More ›
The Daily Rind
Slice up a lemon and put it in your tea. Go ahead, do it, and see what happens. Try and take a sip without saying “ahh.” I’m telling you, it’s impossible. I’m not saying lemon is the greatest thing since sliced-other-things…. Read More ›
Stream of Words
Stream of conscious. Streams are a conscious thought, now. I used to collect tadpoles with my brother. I used to pretend the lazy water turned into rapids and my tadpoles were saved from impending death-by-rock-and-water. Just maybe, I saved them…. Read More ›
In Memory of My Sister (Two Years)
The world’s greatest poet couldn’t tell you what the last two years meant to me. The best photographer couldn’t paint a picture to show you how that time lived through me. Even I, the person with the view and ear… Read More ›
eternal Domnation 