Category: Non-Fiction

In 1991 I was sharing a five-thousand-square-foot loft with a friend of mine in downtown L.A. The building was located in an industrial area on the outskirts of town. Most of the buildings in the neighborhood consisted of old...

A young mom sat with a child on her lap. The sharpness of her image cut across the sandstorm of happy bodies at play on the summertime beach. It was her silence that spoke louder to me than the ruckus of keyed up beachgoers. She...

One night in the park a yearling doe was trotting sideways through early snow over still green grass dancing and pausing, dancing and pausing like a baby Paso Fino testing new ground She held her head upright as she played...

The definition of hell was being a woman in the 1700’s. I never thought about this until I read The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon. This author pulls no punches regarding the severity of how women were disrespected, attacked and...

My son was never into toy cars, not even when he was a little kid. I always thought all kids liked stuff they could throw or move around, so it was kind of strange to me. He had this massive collection of fancy toy cars that he...

Sitting by his bed in the quieting room, I take his hand, hold it despite the shock of how cold it is. His chin rests on his chest, eyes stare straight ahead at something I can’t see. Each breath is an effort, an event, a...

From down this black pit where my heart is sped/ A sombre universe ringed round with lead/ Where fear and curses the long night explore. Baudelaire   In writing about Edgar Allan Poe, Baudelaire extolled his genius and...

My husband rubs his back against the park bench, decompresses after cramped confinement in the sound-proof booth. I study the lines of his audiogram, spikes like cloud-to-ground lightning, plunging deep into the valley of severe...

—for my father Umbilical cord coiled around my neck the first time you held me. Still, but hopeful. Some forty years later, your body, ashes in a ceramic pot, still, when it is my turn to carry you.   Rodger LeGrand is a...

Brothers Four of them came upon me in the middle of the night. The rank smell of beer breath. The chill of covers being ripped away. The shock of hands clamping down my arms and legs. “What are you doing?” I yelled; “Let me go....