Short Story in Prose — Four feet of snow delayed our departure. A driveway, eight roofs, and a parking lot full of snow. Cars abandoned on the highway. It was clear: we would not make it as far South as we wanted. But, but — if we could just get somewhere slightly warmer, somewhere without…

A hybrid poem — There isn't time, there's never time. The skeletons turned to moths years ago. The cedar chips scared them off. Dreaming of past lives, of could-of-been lives. Today, tomorrow — ten years from now — a lifetime when I close my eyes. I’ve stopped feeling twenty-six. Lost count, lost days — lost…

Prose — Untouched are the tomatoes. Bruised and misshaped—over-farmed to just be thrown out. We couldn’t see their potential. If only we’d given them a better chance, a chance to teach our children that the bruises didn’t matter and that the taste is just as sweet. Because there’s no such thing as…

We got our Sprinter! — If you haven’t read the first installment of this journey, you can check it out here. We purchased a Mercedes 170 Sprinter 2500 Diesel in November of 2021. We received it in September of 2022. It had been touch and go for a bit — we had heard rumors of…

Hybrid Prose Even if I don’t keep the folded piece of paper — torn from the diner menu, my gypsy soul has already folded it neatly into my heart. …

A Poem to my Nephew — Here’s my gift to you, son of my sister, a son that I’ll never have. I cannot wait until you're older and in the same instance I want you to stay young and be innocent —a little while longer. I think to myself and out to the universe: I helped shape…

Prose — I dug into Providence's clutch — pricking my finger, as she joked about some wives’ tale, slicing my hand open on her scissors as I attempted to pull them out. The familiar weight of the blades in my hands— lethal in the wrong ones. Seventeen years to realize the only…

Hybrid Prose Poem Prompt — I am Canadian, but lately, I am not sure what that means. The erratic, hostile energy emanating from my screen — seeping into our homes— let alone from our streets. It’s disheartening. Misinformation throwing stones. …

I’ll write a letter I live in a small town with big hearts, but small minds. Where you could joke that everyone is related to everyone else and it might just be true. …