Author: The Helix
- September 14, 2018
He was a tad more than six, an innocent lad who sold icicles, as he desperately tried to fix life’s acerbity, their abject poverty— freedom from fate’s fiendish jinx. He only had his mother, both her legs amputated due
- September 14, 2018
A while back I was having an exchange with my brother in which we werediscussing how we would like to leave this earth—the trappings, the fripperies,if you will. How we would like to be boxed up and sent away
- September 5, 2018
On a Tuesday afternoon in April, the meat rises. Douglas Speck is getting a little freaky with Amy Jenkins up against the dumpster behind the high school cafeteria, and while he’s going in for the landing she whispers something
- May 22, 2016
On this page, I exhibit the fauvist mother gazein thirsty gouache strokes that couldn’t be undone.But my heart hides the aches of a peasant paintbrushwhose meager lines, couldn’t be made visible. On it, my father’s nose and skin
- May 22, 2016
She tugged at her purple bracelet, twisted her hair, and worried of what would happen if the guard saw her walk in. What would he think? What would anyone think?
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