March 13, 2013 | Poetry
Except for the first single-celled organism
preposterously long ago, firecracker snapped
from a vast nothing, the earth is mulch & rot.
March 11, 2013 | Fiction
Justin Lawrence Daugherty
Maria say she gon' tell me the future. She say she know. Mama taught her, but Maria had that gift, not her mama. The real kind. She'd seen all kinds of things 'fore they happen, like her brother shot dead in that parking lot, she'd seen it all four days before it happened.
What you gon' tell me I don't already know? I say.
March 8, 2013 | Fiction
“We’re playing Memory Palace. It’s a medieval memory technique. If you need to remember a list of things, you pick a place that you remember well, like your childhood home or your office or your apartment, and you make a narrative...
She said, during the commercial break, that she was a fan of westerns. I said, I loved the train... more
The first time I fingered a girl, I messed it up. Of course, I didn’t realize at the time. It happened on a Friday night, at a playground. There were four of us there. Two girls, two boys. It was a very open thing. The girl who I fingered said she’d let me try, and we sent our friends to the basketball court to wait for us.