Literature

Prelude I’m scared of this masterpiece,                           how I painted it so perfectly with every bit of green and blue, sewed                           to a threshold of fragmented doors— a tapestry of thoughts, where everything is new.                           I was drawn to a morning so sullen.                           From the wooden chair in...

Our lady of one day at a time Our lady of veils allowed to droop Our lady of the thrice-revised corner Madonna of postponement Madonna of a thumb in the eye Our lady done with these pulling at my ears Our lady but a tear in the equipment Virgin of...

“Come in,” he said in response to the five steady raps on his door. There was a soft squeak as the door opened to let in a waft of the shimmery perfume the woman was wearing. Lawrence Gaston, Director of the St. Francis...

He did not know how long he was standing in front of the airport’s large, expansive glass wall, which offered a misty, drippy view of the departing plane. Not long, he supposed, because his 82-year-old knees would have buckled from standing very long,...

The city has a way of seeming endless. Every new corner I turn into seems like a different world. Each new street is a new explosion of color, activity, and faces. And the city changes quicker than any could ever track. A designer...

A long season of drought gripped us and passed by. Before and after the war, local newspapers and magazines carried literary sections, although sometimes irregularly. Martial law clamped down most print and broadcast media, and only the government controlled saw light. Then, little...