Parley: Literary & Visual Arts – SITREP: Military Literary & Visual Arts – PPSC News: Link to The Paper
The whicker of wind outsidemy window tells me leavingthe haven of my bedwould be a mistake.No breakfast eatenor new day begun,no matter how deliciousor auspicious,can contend with the lovingpress of a flannel sheetor the promised rushof anesthetic joy.Dreams pull me …
“Listen to me,” she whispered, spinning sphereof seas. “We want healing too” (a revelation).Pines meditating, breathing bombs long gone;she, too, could be rooted, accept rain gutteringin veins, metabolize as a Viper’s bowstring,our chlorophyll equally evolved. Why, in Western philosophies,are levels …
Self-loathing. Disgust.A food walk with small-bites: artisan cheeses,blocks of fancy fudge, tiny spigots of fair trade coffee:how many calories was that?! Sattvicaspirations demolished in a dozen minutesof my desire.What will reverse this binge?Monks say the past does not exist,but my …
*This piece was originally published in 2016 on US Represented at www.usrepresented.com and in 2019 at http://www.jg-walker.com/* Sometimes, I ask myself this question: What would George Orwell say if he were alive today? I mean, what would he say other …
The English Department will celebrate the life and work of Toni Morrison. Check PPCC’s student online newspaper, The Paper, for event details. Toni Morrison’s greatness—lyrical prose that embraces the rhythms of black oral tradition, unfettered complexities, and marvelously unglued …
Her eyes bulge out of their sockets. She’s breathing heavily through her nose because her jaw is clenched tight. That vein in her forehead is even going again. Thump, thump, thump, it pulses. She can’t seem to find the words …
Gathering on the edge of winter’s freeze,meeting family and friends at Applebee’s.Blessed for jobs even if we are displeased,eating around the table at Black-eye Peas.May we be generous and kind all throughout, thankful for our health as we scarf down at …
Hours crawled along while my bones grew brittle and stiffOnly the muffled frostiness of the concrete beneath my blanket kept my eyes awareMusty clothes and scents of wet dog floated up my nostrils and invaded my lungsEveryday seemed the same …
She whisperedAnd they traveled softlyLike the wild windsTickling my earsDancing with my hairSwaying me Like the tall wild grassIn which we satShe placed her palmOn mineAnd twisted her fingersInto mineAnd she squeezed And I felt The blood in her veinsThe sunshine in her …
Stacy lounges on her worn couch enjoying a well-deserved glass of red wine. Bare feet rest atop the coffee table as she clicks through the channels, only half paying attention. She swirls the glass in her hand, taking in the …