Welcome to Issue 2 of Literature for Life. Download PDF version here.
You Remember Everything That HappenedTyra Lyn
He always comes back home with his arms full of beautiful things. He brings toys–figurines of American heroes with names you can’t pronounce, tiny plastic parachutes…
Norm, Alive and WellAndrew Ramirez
He walked all the way home like that, the full three miles back from The Lucky Pub, with a knife hanging out of his eye. It didn’t hurt, not even itched, and…
The JugglerCheryl Klein
Every night, Amalia Reyna prayed to Saint Julian to make her reborn.
Love Will Make You NakedJervey Tervalon
What could he do about it? Shit like this happened and all you could do was deal with it. Who would have thought she’d do him like that. Sometimes you get gotted, got gotted or getted, whatever. What could he do but walk home; rushing wouldn’t change anything, except draw attention, and he was drawing […]
The Thing On Treufel’s ArmAndrew Nicholls
Hey Cooter, look what got ahold of me! Treufel hollered as the boat pulled in. I grabbed the lank of yellow rope where Janie threw it and tied them off. Some kind of crab it looked like, attached to his arm – squat, orangy-brown, with nubs around the pale edges of the shell like the […]
(willamena, she ain’t trippin’….)Tim Stiles
(willamena, she ain’t trippin’….)
I never liked them mexicans no way. always up at all hours, playing that off-beat shitty mexican taqueria tuba music. johnny law asked me did I hear something. yeah, I heard something. I hear everything. I live right above them loud-ass, fifteen-people-in-a-three-bedroom-condo-who-the-hell-knows-who-really-lives-there-loud-ass-coming-and-going-at-all-hours-muthafuckas. one of their damn-ass, come-and-go freaky tweaking friends got […]
N.W.A: A Hard Act to FollowJonathan Gold
August ’88: Eazy E props his Air Jordans up on a desk, stares at the ceiling, and leaves the room whenever the beeper on his belt goes off, which is often. He answers most of the reporter’s questions with a noncommittal mmmmm; he could as well be talking to a parole officer as a writer […]
My father picked Belize.
The decision was his because he was the one paying for the trip. My father has a romance with Latin America, an idealized view of any country or region with Spanish influence. He used to be a diplomat in Quito but that was a long time ago. That’s when the love […]
Love, DoveEva Huang
Dove walks into Paradise Palms, balancing a five-pound box of chocolates along with a king-sized Twix bar and a jar of red licorice. She drops the box of chocolates off at the front desk, telling Lara the receptionist that they’re for anyone who stops by, and continues walking until she reaches Room 1176. Taking a […]
Mother, have I told you
That you are the first woman
I ever fell in love with, that what
I’ve always wanted in life is to hear
You say you love me, too?
That is why, ma, it has taken
Me so long to write this poem.
For how […]
“Hold it still,” Hank said. “It can’t hurt you.”
“It’s still warm.” I grimaced and struggled to hold it down as its heavily clawed feet continued to twitch at random. A bead of sweat trickled down my nose and dropped onto its fuzzy belly.
“That’s because it is a hundred degrees already today,” he grunted.
Street Trash: PoemsCeleste Gonzalez
The girls from Kauffman …
watch ’em grow
Into teenage moms
onto adult brides
Babies adorning immature hips
hungry toddlers chasing
the tamale man
pushing the shopping cart
calling him “Papi”
I ain’t dropping anchor here
Locked and confined in a cheap room in Vegas
Essay for My SonRobert Schilling Schick
Here’s what happened. I’m telling you now—up front—to get it out of the way. It’s easier for me that way. That way you won’t wonder, what’s this story about? So you don’t wonder, losing what? Losing who? So you don’t wonder, what you are waiting for? ’Cause if it isn’t good, then you’ll kick yourself—right? […]