The Creeps by Manuel Gonzales
Her body is lean and agile and her arms and legs are well and finely muscled. When she walks, she has an easy and relaxed gracefulness, and when she talks, her voice falls into a smooth cadence. She is a dancer. More specifically, she is a Creep.

Hot Buttered Rhythm by Christopher Hess
By listening to these guys play, you would never guess that they're as young as they are. But then again, you might, because of the incredible energy that they put into playing and the enthusiasm that pours out of every note.

The Kinetics of Kinesis: Toni Bravo's Portraits of Angels by Courtenay Nearburg
The piece celebrates the feminine archetype, focusing on the accomplishments of a few extraordinary women.

Personal Dances by Courtenay Nearburg
She shudders, twists, awkwardly yet somehow gracefully capturing frenzied energy in her jerklike motions. Her left arm leads the rest of her body, propelling her into empty space, a black stage, and she reaches out into the space, her expression tortured, as Bjork yodels to an industrial beat.

True Story fiction by David McDaniel
A strange eerie night indeed, and I come awake in the wee morning hours, suddenly claustrophobic in my sleeping bag.

Up All Night by Harold McMillan
To some in the Austin arts scene, it's ridiculous to suggest that there is a reason to talk about race (as it concerns the arts) at all. To some others in the scene, there is little else in the arts scene more worthy of immediate and in-depth discussion.

Verities by Manuel Gonzales
Forget novels and short stories and poetic prose. I should write a book on how to write.