A Journey into the Fog of the Living When I came to the place I needed to be, I waited.…
Before the Big Bang The rainy evening has sealed us with fluid wax of rain inside a taxicab along with…
Family History He came from Odessa. I remember his glass eye and someone said he was a horse thief or…
For the Simple Things Ramshackle rickety run-down near-ruin, Barely fit for the spiders and flies, But the roof is sound,…
I can’t think of Anything where once words poured out of my chest only the sound of isolation …
Redeye Outside my window: cities are flung like galaxies across the sky-dark earth. In the mirror of the wing, the…
From Iyana-Ipaja to Ado-Ekiti The bus stop at Iyana-Ipaja is an odor that breaks in through the door to our nostrils. The…
Sundai in Edo Katsushika Hokusai, picture #5 Birds bring mystery to music. Some men are working on the road. The…
Joanne Townsend grew up in Boston where after learning the importance of public libraries, public transportation, and voting Democratic, she…
In the low light by the river my grandparents, so young, stand in shabby coats and worn shoes. The bridge…