Stories tagged war


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Not like a Palestinian mother clinging to her baby shot through the belly or the baby clinging to the last moments of life in the arms of his father who, when the life departed, held him up over his head

You're Talking in Your Sleep

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Each morning, she rode her bicycle up north to her job at the pawn shop, which sold hot radios, transmitters, procured from the bodies of dead grunts. Chao ban, Chao ban, I heard her say to the old village women as her bicycle became a black blur upon the

Load and Fire

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South toward Kontum, a smudge of black smoke corkscrewed above the hills. As the four Hueys hovered a foot above the ground, the grunts surged into the clearing, weapons pointed at the olive-drab forest surrounding them. A shot erupted, and in a burst of…

Dog Tags and Caramels

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The house we both grew up in was still as cold. Smelled of grandmother pee. And grew darker and darker inside with only ma’s candles in the kitchen sink guiding us to not trip in hallways.

Ode to a Pouting Lip

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This ounce of glistening flesh protrudes like an inmate grasping past the bars.

Remember Hardy

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"Natalie's a Russian." He was pulling her up from the chair, spinning her around wildly. "Doesn't she remind you of Anna Karenina?"... When I took hold of her small white hand it felt spooky, like a skinned bird.


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Time stole you from underneath the goldendock. Writhing there, slick as a flapping tongue;lips gored, red, whose gaping could embolden weak hands behind the blazing buck blade, long ago pierced in your summer quietus, beneath the soft shade of a tackle box, as the…

Dear England, Please Send Me A Redheaded Boy

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Dear England, Please send me a redheaded boy, fire-red, please. We have one girl aflame but the others are stone yellow or dark as the sea. The flames are so easy to spot from afar.

Ain't Comin' Back

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He told of the wilting heat, the fulgent landscape, the people....

Good Friday - Mary Magdalen

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Come closer. I would offer you the future. Your hand on the soldier’s arm. Your word pregnant with power. “Stop.”

News of the Day

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KSWS is a big brick building where I thought the whole world was taking place until we went there on a field trip in second grade and I learned that KSWS was just cameras and monitors and Candy Tanner’s father sitting behind a desk reading off the news.

That Day

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breathless against my will

Peace-keeping (Valentine's Day Massacre Theme)

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So they told him he better get ready to join the army because that’s where it was at, for him. After all, not everybody could split coconuts with their hands.

His Last Tour

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Each day over there didn’t transpire without taking a small piece of him with it. Every day, another chunk of his soul. He could feel himself being hollowed out, bit by bit, eaten alive by this ugly war's silent termites.


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What can I say about my brother, Stroman. We are twins and we hate each other. He is an honest, brave man with scruples. He is full of bullshit. He thinks I am morally twisted. He probably has a point there, but I don’t see what that has got to do with