Marking Time: New Orleans
by Adam R. Burnett
Issue No. 177 ~ February, 2012
Driving into the French Quarter I immediately feel the warmth of the narrow, hugging streets and the invitation to arrive in this city feels honest.
Driving into the French Quarter I immediately feel the warmth of the narrow, hugging streets and the invitation to arrive in this city feels honest.
Hannah was the name that I chose for myself. It was feminine but solid, not slutty.
It was Goff who began the rubber band thing. He sent the occasional red or green projectile flying across desks and between cubicles.
Through the rear view mirror my mother spotted a state police car behind her, but thought nothing of it, since so many cars were speeding past her in the left lane. Then the red light went on and the police car moved up right behind my mother's van.
Sue William Silverman is the author of two acclaimed memoirs, as well as a poetry collection, Hieroglyphics in Neon and Fearless Confessions: A Writer's Guide to Memoir. Her memoir, Because I Remember Terror, Father, I Remember You is a painful, excruciating account of years of sexual abuse as a child, which won the AWP (Association of Writers and Writing Programs) Award Series in Creative Nonfiction in 1995.
This is my new column. It resembles the inside of my belly.
Harry threw a nearly bare hind leg in the trash. Stan threw a leg in as well.
One day an eighteen-year-old girl slept in past noon.