Philadelphia Freedom
The Italian Market The air is thick with garlic oil musk. It’s the Italian Market, and I’m 12. We’re on a field trip. There are sprinkles...
Upstairs in a Cork Café
We’ve gone native in Ireland. Thank God, it's only five weeks, or the magic would keep us here eternally enchanted forevermore. Missing...
Loads
Heavy. The first time I started washing clothes I was a kid. A little girl. I’d been putting my dirty clothes in the hamper liked I’d...
FARBY’S MANUAL Of CIVIL WAR REENACTING
ARTICLE FIRST: ENLISTMENT LESSON I: In one sitting, learn VOCBULARY. Reenactor Noun. A person who enacts a role in an event that...
The Ghost at Rose Point Manor
I’m not crazy. Do you believe in demons? Paranormal forces? Ghosts? I didn’t before I moved into Rose Point Manor. I write to you from...
Peace
Smile, Returning Warrior, the bastard angel P.T.S.D. is waiting for you. Just you. He knows your soft spots & gets in through your pores...
Morning Comes
On a morning like many others, a young man stepped out of his home. He entered the grey hours with a sense of duty, of a job needing to...
Why New Orleans is Home
When people ask me “Where are you from?”, you’d think they’d asked me to solve the mystery of the universe. I stumble; I mumble something...
Tears/Sorrow/Song
photograph Brianna Breaux, Kinsale, Republic of Ireland 2017 Tears The way home is eight miles through the wind ripping off Lake...
Blue Rose
This is my last one, swear to God. Or is it, gods? Whichever sadistic mystery keeps us spinning, whether we want to or not. Today, I want...
