ALL CREATIVE NONFICTION, FLASH FICTION & POEMS

October 1968 I clearly remember the first time I crossed the river to Saint Paul. Dad had sent a cab to my dorm so I could join him at...

THE LINE WOUND THROUGH the trees like a fuse, and if I craned my neck, I could see where we were headed. As each coat and scarf faded...

ASIA SONG PULLED UP TO A GAS STATION on I-94 west. She went straight to the restroom. She washed her hands. Washed her fatigued eyes....

My husband told me about the Lebanese enclave on the West Side, shopping at Morgan’s for flat bread and kibbi, his mother digging up...

WHEN I TURNED TEN IN APRIL OF 1958, I thought I was pretty wise to the ways of the world, especially when it came to adults, girls,...

HER ORPHANAGE SAT INNOCENTLY in the middle of Washington Street, just above the Upper Landing docks of the Mississippi, with the Bucket...

I sometimes forget Crazy to you means twirling in circles Not the woman on the light rail Or my roommate from the U Or the week I had at...

IT WAS AN OLDER BUILDING ON GRAND AND SARATOGA, three levels of charming studio apartments, full of original woodwork. The landlady...

Her long hair falls dark, sweet-smelling, smooth. It grows in deep-night flows and shadowy folds then straightens down her supple back....

“DAKHASO, dakhaso,” my mom is screaming, standing at the door of her Minneapolis home. “Hooyo,” I whine. “You can’t rush tea! You know...

IN 1970, I WAS FOURTEEN YEARS OLD. In those days, if a person wanted to get somewhere, they walked. The Schmidt Brewery was always...

ON THE PLAYGROUND of the Saint Paul public elementary school where I work, a young boy with a burdened face sat beside me on a bench,...