Date: October 2021

322 Eastway Drive By Gabriela Rose Echoes of shouts fill the room. Glass shatters under its volume. Fragments of red pinot noir glass fall like marbles rolling across amber wool carpet. Pieces of glass enter my skin as the blood drips its trail to the negro marquina marble table with ebony steel cha

The Tower (A poem of witness for the University of Texas tower shooting Aug. 1, 1966.) By Adriana Barker God blinked, and Satan stole lives under the cover of darkness. What does the shattering of bone sound like? Is it a pencil snapped in half, or a quick swipe of nails on a chalkboard? Does [&hell

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