I slowly eased myself off the couch and gingerly walked over to the window. Sure enough, there were five or six police cars converging from all directions, and two ambulances parked on the main street in front of the small row of stores.
When I return to the room, she is in bed. I slip under my ivory quilt and switch off the light. My stomach growls for food. In order to avoid the Russian, I spent the entire evening across the street at a friend’s place.
The guy's left leg kind of wiggling while he scratched. Didn't seem like a nervous wiggle or a wiggle because of pain, just a wiggle, just something the guy did.
Drawing, painting, video, and performance are all mediums our December Artist utilizes in her involved, relevant creations. Native Iowan turned Kansan, Amber Hansen proudly represents the Midwest. Beginning her artistic endeavors early on, she was determined to learn despite the lack of artistic outlets/resources in …
Suzor’s poetry has been published widely, as well as anthologized, translated and nominated for the Pushcart Prize. She lives in Venice, California where she is a founding editor for Highway 101 Press, and a guest lecturer for the Left Bank Writers Retreat in Paris.
My father was a great teacher of terrible lessons, and consequently couldn’t be trusted to teach me anything correctly. I discovered this in third grade when I found out they are not called “smashed potatoes.”
