Category Archives: Lyrical Prose

The Plazas Of Puerto Rico

“Well,” my mother says on the phone, “at least we are all still alive.” By the ‘we’ she means all our immediate and distant relations in Puerto Rico, they are all still alive. Her older sister and husband, my aunt … Continue reading

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Drama in the Parking Lots

Drama in the church parking lot, one man woke another sleeping in a car, and then they got into an argument. You’d think the man sleeping in the car would be a kid or a teenager but this was a … Continue reading

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The Body

The body has acquired an extended life, floating down the newly created Venetian canals of New Orleans, almost lazy in disposition, face up like a tourist, gaping at the beaded verandas and abandoned terraces of a moratorium Mardi Gras. The … Continue reading

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Red Tide of Vieques

This story is confused because I am confused, or rather the sailor who told me the story, in the brig, the whole week he seemed to be in a daze, barely stirring, and eating nothing but soup and bread, and … Continue reading

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The Naïveté of Youth

My act of heroism? Retrieving a football from a neighbor’s roof where her brother overthrew the ball showing off his arm. I also brought back down an extra Nerf ball I found while I was up there but I scraped … Continue reading

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Just Another Lazy Excuse for the Hardships of Life

The first year after the amputation, I was despondent and ashamed and I simply told people I lost my leg fighting in Afghanistan. But then that explanation led to more questions and more lies and people wanted to drive me … Continue reading

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Pincher (Immanentize the Eschaton)

(The following story is a work of fiction.) From the Australian Capital Government Territory and Municipal Services, hereinafter referred to as TAMS, the following is a condensed and preliminary incident report deferred over to law enforcement. The incident took place … Continue reading

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Flying Scorpions

I. The Father The father brought home the gifts for the kid’s birthday. They were well wrapped on gaily-colored paper-maché. The father could not hide them in the crawl space above the closet or in the false wall created by … Continue reading

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The Nothing That Happens

Late at night, her grandmother’s house, by her grandmother I mean some lady not quite 60 at the time who was raising her, providing a room, a bed, a place to sleep since her mother dropped her off and ran … Continue reading

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Sofa King

The City of Ann Arbor issued a citation forcing us to remove the couch from the front porch and to clean the debris and junk strewn around the yard. This was the summer we rented a bush hog and mowed … Continue reading

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