I was sitting on my concrete walkway, pulling weeds from what you could have called a garden, intermittently looking over at Shelly's house—checking for signs of life.
Suspended by Nicole Jeffords. Spring Fiction Winner.
What power, what excitement, to sweep down Broadway in the sticky summer heat, the crowd parting for her, her long skirt billowing out like a sail.
Living through history. Spring poetry winner.
I want to escape my sober thoughts and become undone under foreign skies.
Particles, Spring Non-Fiction Winner.
His feet are large. His hair is hard.
Tegucigalpa. Winter Fiction Winner.
He’s a child, all of thirteen with an incipient moustache and the greasy face of adolescence. I concentrate on his deed, but I can’t threaten him. He spits at my window as I roll it up.
Living. Poetry Winner, Winter.
I want a girl who’s dying.
The Poison House. Winter Nonfiction Winner.
Now they had religion. It was time to buy a house.
Character Development: Putting the Other on the Page
Character development is an elastic exercise. It is also a moral one.
To My Sisters. Fourth in a series of veterans’ responses to the insurrection.
We finally know how our mothers felt when we were the ones in uniform.
A Thin Line. Third in a Series on the Insurrection.
Soldiers were for war, not airports.
