Waiting in the Clinic for Nameless Lovers By Dwaine Rieves
When the clinic called for physicians, I volunteered. Of course, I wasn’t gay—all I needed was proof. I needed to find the clinic and its patients repulsive.
When the clinic called for physicians, I volunteered. Of course, I wasn’t gay—all I needed was proof. I needed to find the clinic and its patients repulsive.
My mother took the greatest care of her porcelain Virgin Mary. She was two feet tall, dressed in white from head to toe, and as my mother claimed, cried when no...
Represented as a heartbeat of highs and lows, “The Story of Me” is a memoir of the artist’s life from birth through middle-age (pen and ink on 18”x24”drawing pa...
Lies don’t shine, no matter how hard one scrubs.