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Nothing I write
will ever be finished.
SERVICE CALL BY GABRIELLE ESPOSITO 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 85
Writing means whatever you want it to mean. There is no one reason why a writer writes. Some of us don’t even enjoy the knuckle-breaking work it takes to complete a work that will never really be “finished”. I am of the opinion that nothing I write will ever be “finished”.
During my fifth pregnancy I lost my sense of humor.
THE END OF AUGUST BY PG SMITH 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 85
My children could get dirty sitting completely still side by side on a white plastic couch in the middle of the living room. I knew this because I tried it on the advice of my next-door neighbor Wanda, the perfect homemaker. Her children were not dirty. She bathed them and put them on the sofa and made them stay there watching TV until their father got home. That’s how you handle it, Penny, she told me.
I am a sucker for a fantastical tale.
MYTHOLOGY BY MELISSA NUNEZ 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 85
Your words are a siren song and my pulse syncs with the cadence. I hear what you say and I hear what you mean. Words can be slippery things. They splash in and out of context, only partially surface, and you can’t help but wonder what remains hidden below.
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