The boys were waiting when Hollis unlocked the door to the barber shop, milling in a cluster by the planter box. Two of the shortest ones sat on the concrete lip, their legs kicking at…
Browsing Category Prose, Poetry, and Art
Darkling with Lightning
I wanted to become a burning myth in my hot youth,pined for truth, but owned the largest voice to speak the smallest lies;from the centerof the wheel I ran nowhere fast, said littleof substance to…
Christmas Twenty Ten, California
for Louis burrito by starlight, red and green Cholulain the beard. Stuffed to our socks, let us dub this the first formal ritual to the pagangods of guac and fries, carne asada, jalapeño hit the…
The Story of the Bee
It was summer and everything had fallen apart. But I’d not yet lost hope. It was one of those descents where you feel free almost, so long as you can sense some light somewhere to…