This piece was submitted as part of Michael’s BA thesis on the history and inhumanity of solitary confinement. The piece touches on the complexity of solitary confinement, its effects on the human mind, and its mundane nature. Ultimately, the reader is forced to ponder on the ramifications of solitary confinement especially its application in supermax
Tagcreative writing
Master of Critique
“It is told of Sigismund, King of Rome, that when someone pointed out a grammatical mistake he had made in a speech, he answered, ‘I am King of Rome, and above all grammar.’ And he went down in history as Sigismund super-grammaticam. A marvelous symbol! Every man who knows how to say what he has
Ivory Saints
Yea, I hated all my labor which I had taken under the sun, for I should leave it unto the man that shall be after me – Ecclesiastes 2:18 On the morning of All Saints Day, Brother Matej rose, as was his custom, an hour or so before sunrise in a small cell of that
The Sinkhole
I felt the chilly wind as I stepped out of the taxi. The hotel my boss booked for me was in the northern district of the city. I stood next to the car gazing at the dark red building while the driver took my suitcase out of the trunk. The building was wide rather than
I am from here
Somewhere on the border, where the cold and the dry kills everything that needs to be killed, somewhere around here is where I’m from. Where the weeds are lush and the grass is gone. Where the cow’s milk tastes dirty and the breast milk tastes sad. Where bodies are cremated, not buried, and you can
Some Thoughts on Love
Some thoughts on love Some thoughts on affection I work my way up into no expectations And coax away the need for labels When I stare at your hand resting across the dinner table, And notice the fine scars across some shape of a palm That could belong to anyone But because it’s not anyone,
Birth of the Blue Heron
Dark, dark my light, and darker my desire. My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly, Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I? A fallen man, I climb out of my fear. The mind enters itself, and God the mind, And one is One, free in the tearing wind. “In a Dark Time” By
“House Arrest” and “This is a Poem”- Two Poems by Sam Zamrik
House Arrest I was once a prisoner. Prisoners are often kept behind bars and gates, under lock and key, but not me. I was a prisoner behind a screen. A window screen, a wire mesh stained with blood and the putrid flesh of a hundred flies. My keeper kept me under, complacent. My keeper kept