Yesterday’s Muse

The blurb under Jan Anderson’s photo in the Springville High School yearbook said she was on the debate team, sang in the girls’ chorus, and won a prize for writing an essay in French, but the main thing Will Harper remembered about her was her breasts. Continue Reading

To Rebel Is a Duty: On the Importance of Activism, Story and the Artistic Life

I’ve had the great pleasure over the last couple of years of getting to know Satish and Sarina Prabasi—activists, travelers, immigrants, father and daughter and first time memoirists of Fragments of Memory: A Nepali National’s Reminiscences and The Coffeehouse Resistance: Brewing Hope in Desperate Times respectively. It would be impossible not to be taken withContinue Reading

Lost Indian Gold Mine

If I had even an inkling of where to look, I’d sure as hell invest me in some scuba gear, I tell you that much.Continue Reading

Cecil’s New Friends

He’s been here forever…No one minds Cecil. But, no one wants to be him either.Continue Reading

Insurance Against Extinction

Lee flashed to his claustrophobic apartment as it was during stay-at-home orders. Greasy take out containers, alcohol, the constant ticker of death tolls on CNN, and the revolving door of frightened, horny, women. Like Bono, he technically had enough to keep him alive. He was going through the motions of breeding in captivity.Continue Reading

Psychopathia Sexualis: Case 1-1, 66, & 187

“I just needed it. I wasn’t trying to scare anyone.”

When asked about how he would satisfy himself if released, “I’m going to keep to my own kind,” C replied emphatically.

“That doesn’t give me much peace of mind,” the judge said.Continue Reading

The Cindies

No good deed goes unpunished, and Cindy saved a boy’s life. Continue Reading

Salt and Blood

Dario’s black hair tangles up and gets all white and powdery from the salty dust left by the wind. I help him unknot it, and my hands smell like salt for the rest of the summer. We sit on the shore, the pebbles between our fingers, until Dario decides that it’s time for a swim.Continue Reading

You Don’t Have Very Far to Go

And for two days straight, before going into the bookstore, I’d been locked up in a darkened room that stank to high heaven of unwashed pits and a poorly-wiped ass.Continue Reading

Buoys

Florida was like a page of loose leaf. Nothing and everything possible simultaneously. Continue Reading