Sade Olutola
Keni
One Nice Bug Per Day
hello vonnie
Show & Tell
Monterey Bay Aquarium
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
we're not kids anymore.
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Andulka
DEAR READER
Three Goblin Art
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I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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#extradirty
Janaina Medeiros
cherry valley forever
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@andrews-songs
Here's How You Fly: Chapter 1
Like the sounds hidden in a record’s grooves, smoke hung heavy and thick. It obscured the light from above as if the smog from his California childhood had followed him across the country. His dad still lived there, in Southern California. He’d been in Virginia for three years, since the summer of 1988. Now it was 1991. Not that the year made any difference. He was in ninth grade. Childhood—along…
New Novel: Here's How You Fly
My new novel, Here’s How You Fly, is now available wherever you buy books! Josh Marshall is suffering. He’s 14 years old. His parents are divorced. He’s moved all the way across the country, and the drugs and alcohol he’s discovered simply aren’t working anymore. Only his best friend, a girl named Melody Fisher, offers him solace. Then, one night, the frayed strings holding Josh’s life together…
Now available wherever you buy books, Here's How You Fly:
When Josh Marshall winds up in an adolescent rehab facility, he has no choice but to confront all the anger and fear that tortures him and start a journey that reveals what it truly means to fly.
Link in comments.
Thanks to everyone who already pre-ordered a copy of my newest book, Here's How You Fly!
Giving my advance copy one last proof before it's set for release on October 7. If you haven't picked up yours yet, here's the blurb:
Josh Marshall is suffering. He’s 14 years old. His parents are divorced. He’s moved all the way across the country, and the drugs and alcohol he’s discovered simply aren’t working anymore. Only his best friend, a girl named Melody Fisher, offers him solace.
Then, one night, the frayed strings holding Josh’s life together unravel. But our darkest moments can always lead to salvation.
When Josh winds up in an adolescent rehab facility, he has no choice but to confront all the anger and fear that tortures him and start a journey that reveals what it truly means to fly.
Available wherever you buy books.
A New Kind of Art
A new kind of art resides in our minds,germinating from the future’s seeds.It has yet to be planted, but it grows nonetheless like avine creeping up the walls ofacademia. (lightning waterscells in ourbrains as thoughts burst forthfrom soilwe live beneath) We can’t remove it,rooted in collegiatebricks. A symbiotic self, it is one with that which birthed it,as natural as chlorophylled…
I Am the Breaking Dawn
I am the breaking dawn.My star burns eternal.I light the way through allyou experience inthis world. Behold the night,a supernova’s dance frozen where no life dwells.In space, it’s empty. We’regodless, devoid of thewarmth we need to feel. Icry. I yearn. I reach foryou, your heart, your mind, your soul. I ask you what youneed to hear to be theruler, the lover whounleashes holy fireon this…
My Emotions Get the Better of Me
My emotions get the better of me…Locking me inside myself, my mind startsto turn on its thoughts like an imprisonedinnocent who’s done no wrong but suffersdespite themselves. This is the way I bleed. Like dragons’ flames, the blood burns against myskull. Its pressure boils inside my gut whereI’ll never reach to wash away the stain.I writhe in bed. I writhe on the couch. Itry taking a walk, but…
It's Too Late To Write This Poem
It’s too late to write this poem.The night has gone on too long.It’s too late to write this poem.Everything has gone wrong. Earlier, it looked to be a splendidevening. Earlier, it appeared lifemight blossom like a flowerat the side of the road. The world was young and fresh.You walked beside me in your dress.Your lips curled up with a smile.I had to look away after a while. Now, I can’t see…
Presence
When you stay present,in the moment, you don’t die.You live forever.
Bathsheba, Part I
Photo by Ivan Rojas on Pexels.com Although he didn’t know what they wereat the time – mere cakes to hungry eyes –beside a broken bridge, the boy stood stillpatiently awaiting the Godhead’s pills.Popping a handful in his waiting mouth,he immediately felt the lonelysting of immortality crush his soul.That’s when the serpent awakened below… Through murky depths, she gazed upon the skyfrom behind…
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Dying as the Wind Blows
This is an excerpt from 2003 novel, Crossroads Blues.
This is an excerpt from my novel, Crossroads Blues. Trigger Warning: This story relates events that take place in New York City on the day of 9/11/2001, after the Twin Towers collapsed. When the first tower fell, nobody knew quite what to do. After the initial outburst of terror, the angel’s cry, there is silence about the space of heaven. Was it real? Did I see what I thought I saw? Did one of…
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When I Was Golden
Back when I was goldenand the cherry blossoms scented the air,you and I went bubbling down the avenueconsciously oblivious to the world’s ills. The myth had it backwards.You were the first to speak,and I the first to listen…or so it seemed at the dawn of time. You told me to look clearly at the trees.Their vibrancy was the opening shot of our movie.I trained my ears more closely to the dialogue…
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The Story We All Hear
As the man said,I didn’t get it then. I was driving in my car.A song came on the radio.That was when I knew,I wanted to tell his story. It’s the same story we all hear. It said: Your whole life waited,moment to moment,seeing things you don’t see,hearing things you don’t hear,thinking things you don’t think,dreaming things you can’t dream. There are no nouns.The world is verbs. If only we…
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New Story Collection: Spare Change
This collection of stories started as a simple observation. When traveling outside of Washington, DC, the city I lived in back in 2014, I realized most Americans didn’t think of my adopted home as a real place. It was a gathering point for politicians and media execs, a “swamp” of power and intrigue. Living in the city, however, I found it to be full of people dealing with their own personal…
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I Want to Talk to You
The opening story from my new collection, Spare Change. Now available wherever you buy books.
The opening story from my new collection, Spare Change. Now available here, or wherever you buy books. “I want to talk to you about racism and gentrification,” was the first thing the man walking down the sidewalk said to Matthew on that summer day. The younger white man had stepped out on his stoop to enjoy the sunshine, and he’d just begun reading for his required classes starting that…
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All I Ever See
A sunrise crosses across the ocean,casts golden mirrors of reflections inendless waves stretching till they have no end.Building white force, rushing up towards the shore,they rear their heads to crash such a display:the sea’s voice screams at waiting, silent sands.You know, I waited up all the past night,needing a glimpse, a peak at true beauty,and now that day has finally arrived,my soul is…
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Like a Snake Tripping on LSD
New short story on my blog, Pan de Bare. #writing #amwriting #memoir #music #90sMusic #90sPunk #Fugazi
The conundrum we faced as freshmen in college in 1996 was that on the same April weekend Morphine was playing in Philadelphia while Fugazi was playing in Richmond. Each city was about the same distance away from us in Maryland, and a group of us wanted to see both shows. Since we had a free place to stay in Richmond at my mom’s home, I convinced our little group to make the trek south for Fugazi.…
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