by Kashawn Taylor In this big housealone in my own room I hear from downstairs fourteen strange men loafed on couches enraptured by guys in tights running back and forth across a manicured field on this day of Thanks hooting laughing shooting the shit It could be worse Shit, it has been worse much much worse than babysitters in an office under…
Writing has always been part of my life. As a child, my journey began with writing short stories about family summer vacations. As a teenager, I kept a journal for many years, writing about friendships. Today, I am grateful it is a daily part of my life teaching English and…
by Richard Adams Carey I remember my mother being an atheist about the aging process. “I don’t feel any different,” she would protest as the decades marched on. She didn’t deny the aches and pains, which she did feel, and which were different. It was more a mental thing, a…