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Jaylee Marchese
When it has all passed and I am fifty years older, body cracked like a pomegranate in hungry hands, the stain of me on everything, I’ll peel back the skin of my life. Say here it is, pith and all. Wasn’t it worth it? Jaylee Marchese is an American writer from a tiny town in…
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Michael Dwayne Smith
nothing like storybooks, no, closer to sleepwalking through an infinite stream of repetitious, connivant videoclips day to week to month, as does Matías, who since the crash routinely rides past our old adobe flat on a sturdy Azteca I bequeathed him for graduation, majestic, walk-trotting to Desert Home of Peace for another heart-to-heart. It’s the…
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Elizabeth Rosen
When Maggie rings my bell, I open the door wide and invite her inside. She takes the only stand-alone seat in the room and sits on the edge, straight-backed, hands in her lap. I take the couch and wait. I know what this is about. Yesterday, we all saw her daughter, Maya, out removing the…
