Quantcast
Channel: The Survivor Chronicles
Browsing all 10 articles
Browse latest View live

Seaman

Your voice is like the sea’s after a terrible storm lapping at my dunes churning forth this image comes crashing like a tidal wave engulfing me your invisible undertow’s got me by my legs, waist, my...

View Article



Wound

You laid into me like an iron hot and pressing against my bare opening. Tracy Strauss‘s poetry earned the 2005 Somerville Arts Council Literary Fellowship and has been published in The Hummingbird...

View Article

The Day I Knew

There are those who say they want it all back. If they could just re-do it all again; forget they ever met. But I don’t want it all back. I’m willing to surrender, give in to the feeling that I can...

View Article

Cloudburst of Souls

The curds and whey clouds are stacked like cotton wool, orderly and regular. “Don’t cry. That’s what happens when the good and the young die”. “Orderly cotton wool clouds form only when the best or the...

View Article

Measure of Love

In the instant you collapsed, I knew you’d left me, but your heart kept pumping, lungs struggling for breath, body flat out, length six feet one, weight a hundred and thirty-five pounds. In the...

View Article


Grocery Shopping

I wrench a cart from the stack where they nestle like spoons, and take the route I’ve always taken— up the main aisle, one-eighty degree turn, down the next. Skip the eggs (I still have half a dozen in...

View Article

The Hit

It was St. Patrick’s Day, a drinking holiday in the city.  When the city drank, I drank.  But since I’m Filipina, instead of drinking to the luck of the Irish, I drink to the luck of the Asian at...

View Article

Uprooted

I remember when sleep and rest were synonymous and I awoke each morning, or early afternoon, feeling like a freshly-watered plant with my shoots yawning toward the sun. But you strolled by, saw...

View Article


The ER

I’m sitting on a gurney in the emergency room. I’ve lost count of how many visits this makes. A flimsy cotton gown is wrapped around me, I feel the chill from the opening at the back and I shiver. The...

View Article


Richochet

“Life is a crap shoot that can turn out crap,” old Snake Eyes once told me. “The only guarantee is there are no guarantees.” He scratched his scarred temple, “Pot shots,” he said, “pot shots— you never...

View Article
Browsing all 10 articles
Browse latest View live




Latest Images