Labor Day Love: A Day of Reflection and Refinement
It all started with Marty Bell. We were sitting on the Robertson Unit recreational yard. The wrens serenaded…
May 28, 2023
It all started with Marty Bell. We were sitting on the Robertson Unit recreational yard. The wrens serenaded…
May 28, 2023
“Hunter,” the counselor called to me as I was packing to leave the Covid housing unit, my ten-day…
May 21, 2023
“Time, why you punish me?” This is the opening line to a well-known song (Time) from the 90s.…
May 14, 2023
I am not the guy who writes about sunshine and flowers. I am not the guy who writes…
May 7, 2023
Artwork: Texas Death Machine by Arnold Prieto Jr. On the 28th of November, nearly four weeks to the day…
April 30, 2023
Part One The Writer had stopped writing. It wasn’t writer’s block now or anything like it. Maybe he’d…
April 23, 2023
I had hardly opened my eyes Wednesday morning when she came to visit me. Just as I came…
April 16, 2023
“How many, on the contrary, are fed with evil influences, street associations, and are thus poisoned at every…
April 9, 2023
I never wanted to be a writer. I didn’t start writing in prison because of some cliché about…
April 2, 2023
Part IToday, July 30, 2022, a Saturday at 7:30 AM, a helicopter flew close to this prison’s yard.…
March 26, 2023