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Roads West

by Chavala Ymker “Final Destination: San Francisco,” scrolls across the front of the Greyhound bus as my mom and I leave Chicago. The...

I wish you could meet Marsha. I’d been away from home for so long when we met, and the first thing she asked was, “Would you like a cup...

I read something once about hygroscopic particles making sunsets more vibrant, but I think it’s just that the desert is dry and empty....

I want to recognize that everyone's experience in this moment is different. These musings come from my own experience as a college...

“Coprolites,” I slowly sound out the syllables then look at the definition: “Fossilized dinosaur feces.” I laugh in the empty hallway....

I open the door and it feels like home. Like a grandmother’s house. Friar Martin grins at me from the counter as I take a chocolate chip...

Maybe I was high that day. No, I definitely was. A joint rolled tight, hanging between my fingers. July 14, 1971. It was too warm, and I...

Seven letters. Two syllables. Good-Bye. The word I hate most. I’m the one who hangs around just a moment too long because I don’t want to...

Seven letters. Two syllables. Good-Bye. The word I hate most. I’m the one who hangs around just a moment too long because I don’t want...

It’s not much, my small piece of the Grand River tripping over blocks of concrete pushed down the bank by the business just above. Three...