Nonfiction

Death of a Cyclist

Hot. Hot as hell out. 90 plus. Usually I like it, my muscles thrive on it, but here it’s kind of dangerous (more on that later). West Virginia, that’s where her...

Revisions

1. By the age of ten, she had it all decided. She said, when I grow up, I’m going to have three children, two boys and a girl. She announced the news with the a...

What Ravens Can Teach Us of God

1. I like ravens, they recognize my face even when I don’t. Once when I lived in Aventura, and I was sunning at my apartment complex’s pool after a swim, a rav...

A Field of White

On one of those rare mornings when I’m alone, not haggling over Cheerios and milk, stuffing kids into coats and hats before haul-assing out the door to drop the...

Northern Idaho Without A Clue

Desiccated chicken legs under the chairs. Piles of twisted accordion-shaped pop cans. Coffee can of shotgun shells. Stray Cheerios float atop milk drops on a vi...

Secret Robin Hood?

I walk quickly, without pause, for fear someone will read my mind and discover my intent—to skip mass and enter the inner sanctum where only the invited can go....

Passenger

“Wherefore, unsatisfied Soul? and Whither, O mocking Life?” -Whitman, “A Passage to India” “Only connect.” -E.M. Forster, A Passage to India   Do y...

Mutations

“Ever heard of crank?” my best friend Jane said. We sat in her kitchen amid stacks of old National Geographics on my first visit to Rairdon. It was the early ei...

Biology

Freshman year we tried to keep our heads down or at least out of the toilets. The athletes and the beautiful girls had it different, I guess, hoping to get noti...