Cade

aqua green cooking appliances rumble, like the mail truck outside, in a kitchen whose age trumps my (almost) sixteen years, where the tea kettle fidgets, blowing kisses in the corner, ...

The bell rings, excusing us from fourth period lab. Plastic goggles in the cabinet, heavy aprons unsnapped and hung by the door, we stepped out into the hallway. Chemistry was ...

"Let me in," the Teacher said, and knocked upon the door. The Man jumped quickly out of bed and stomped across the floor. The Teacher held his ink and pen, ...

Here, we learn the difference between fatalities and murder. We are all crude sketches of ourselves here, squinting eyes, fingers creating constellations from the dents made by shrapnel in the ...

My cousin and I roamed the boardwalk. Tourists. Not many would have guessed that we're related: She, round edges and yellow curls, blue eyes laughing at the way her hips ...

Eleven-thirty. The cook handed me an apron and eyed the cellphone in my pocket. "Hide that," he said. Shrugging, I slipped it into my coat, balling it into a corner ...

City of Bridges She always expects surprise, even here, in the rows of corn and wheat.

My grandparents' walls are covered with clocks, and the memoirs of their ship: Invictus, reads the anchor on the coffee table. They sailed around the world before I was born, ...

When the giants came to steal her soul away, she went without a fight.

Have you seen my love? My heart? It ran away from home last year. Perhaps you’ve glimpsed it from the highway, trying to hitchhike a ride to California, or maybe ...

It was of those November mornings when I wished I had remembered gloves. The air wasn’t quite bitter yet, but my fingertips were numb, thrust inside thinly lined pockets. My ...

Sunlight coats the icicles that cling to our gutters. I sigh, knowing they won’t disappear for another six weeks, probably more. The kids across the street learn that, when making ...

Here, where the weather seldom matches the name of the town, I look at the sky and wonder what exists past the clouds. Sometimes I think I see my face ...

We wrote pantoums (it's pronounced pan-TOOM and is a very funny word) in my creative writing class. I've only seen the style a few times before, and it was really ...

We wrote limericks in Creative Writing yesterday to celebrate St. Patty's Day. Enjoy? --------------------- One day I met a man from Great Britain Upon an ice cream truck a-sittin’ He ...

The Sailor's Wife inspired by Salvador Dali's "Figure at a Window" He has a window with no glass, a ceiling with no beams, a sky made out of canvas. Her ...

[Now, this is a Creative Writing assignment. Please understand that I SUCK at prose, and that I made it through the first half of the class writing mediocre poetry that ...

In my thoughts, he’s mine, and in misty dreams filled up with romance that stems from the minds of wistful girls with un-held hands. It seems these wild thoughts are ...

Late February, and the ground was still frozen. A few warm days flickered by, days we thought we could keep by breathing deeply outside. No effort could have stopped the ...

I. There are no cherries here, just flat blossoms I would tuck into nests of cut grass, and sit with hands stained earthy tones, waiting for birds to land in ...

(Just wondering what YWS shall make of it.) He knows that those who only want to live speak in lyric, not in song.

Today, the first day of spring, there were birds in my front lawn. I listened to them as I belted my jeans and smuggled my arms into a second sweater. ...

It's eight o'clock and frozen waffles spin around the microwave. The girl I will be paid to watch while Mommy's out has in her hands a flashlight. When the lightning ...

I smiled as I woke this morning because I remembered the way you asked me to dance last night in the sweaty school gymnasium. That same song was playing, the ...

I'm having quite a bit of trouble with this little bugger. I feel like there's something missing, and that the second stanza is a little messy. Please help me clean ...

So it turns out I randomly write fiction once in a while. Enjoy? -- Roy lived alone in a third-floor apartment overlooking the narrow city street below. The apartment was ...

So I ask her how her cat died, not like I expected an interesting answer, because it’s usually cancer or old age or getting hit by a car, that’s how ...

What a strange phrase it is: As if in the middle of the night, the steps stir, shaking off the feeling of being walked up, walked down all day. They ...

He came down to the battlefields after the killing was over, saw the bodies scattered around like blue and grey leaves in autumn. But his photographs were black-and-white and the ...

I am terribly unsure of this essay. It was more of an experiment for me than anything. I've been trying to write it for months and finally posted it in ...

Energy—motion—energy— the pen an applied force, electrons circling an unstable nucleus. This is not my method of discovery; yet my eyes follow the curves, the loops, dots, and dashes we've ...

Four-Leafed Clovers Surprising that we would find so many in the small places in the sun, and to think, statistically, the number there must be in the lawns all over ...

{Note: This was written for NaPoWriMo. I originally liked it very much, but then I realized that it was very bad. So, after a few months of struggling with it ...

Now, normally I don't post stuff the same day I write it. But I was feeling spontaneous. Please rip it to shreds. -- Did you know, Suzanne, that I intended ...

So, um, I wrote this once when I was being really hopeless-romantic-y. I actually hate it, but YWS has definitely helped me salvage poetry I hate before, so please, do ...

This afternoon I watched a silent film in which a woman was feeding doves in the yard of her little house. And I felt pretty goddamn pretentious.

As if one day a younger me was walking on the beach and, bending down to pick up a water-smooth rock, did not feel herself lose me, feel me slipping ...