It is said that Grampa Fellows’ Grandma was a daughter of the Iroquois Chief of the Mohawk Tribe outside their town. When she was a small child, the government demanded her, cut off her hair, and sent her to a white man’s school to become…

This summer I will drive to 16 shows 8 in August 8 in September through several states and time zone changes. Janice will accompany me along with others as we travel to spread our love for a Boyband. A single mom with three kids she…

Chuckling, a sedoka I’m on daddy’s knee. His big hands around my waist. His fingers tickling my sides. I try to escape, but that will never happen. I cackle and howl.

the exhausted mother shut her eyes her back was hurting she didn’t have it in her to tell her children the regular bedtime story just imagine, she said to them, a beautiful garden in front of your eyes with flowers in bright colours and anima-…

School was out It had to be Summer Back then the seasons were as defined The Chicago breeze wafted through pigtails like no other air I looked out the sunroom window at my friends playing in the park and had to get there My sister…

Unlearning   On an autumn evening bike ride with my father my tires skidded to a horizontal stop on wet auburn leaves, rocks lodged themselves in my bloodied hands and chubby little knees   Circling back he dismissed my tears which trickled and mixed with…

I double my exposure Keeping words tucked Inside With an Aperture open wide For you have a high ISO And with a Focal speed Growing ever nearer That is you can’t take words back Even they fall out of your mouth Overexposed pictures Show us…

A knot in my stomach a lump in my throat it’s hard to swallow, sometimes. those moments that cause so much anxiety. When you have the talk you’ve been putting off. the day you anticipate the news you’ve been waiting for. the moment before the…

Dear six of nine, How dare you. How dare you call yourselves justices when you’re nothing more than souless, spineless, jesters. How dare you. How dare you. How fucking dare you. I hope one day you feel this wrath. And I hope it fucking burns.

Many years ago, I read a story of a small girl, lost and alone. Selling matches by the book, fingers stained black with soot, ignored on this frozen day, lighting matches to make her way. And I remember feeling grief for a tale, of a…