<blockquote>I was four when my father first started trying to kill me.</blockquote>
~
Warning: this piece contains descriptions of violence.

I was four when my father first started trying to kill me. ~ Warning: this piece contains descriptions of violence.

I was four when my father first started trying to kill me.
~
Warning: this piece contains descriptions of violence.

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Life Lines is an audio journal of poetry, spoken word, and other creative writing by men on Death Row, USA. Contributors live on Death Rows in North Carolina and Tennessee. 

Life Lines is about connection. It’s about finding surprising spaces to share endangered, beautiful life. It’s about recognizing our power and our powerlessness to give and take life. 

We feature three new pieces each week, words which we hope invite communion, however limited and imperfect, with those struggling to live inside state prisons. 

Because of state laws restricting access to prisons, the authors record these poems by phone. As you listen carefully, let the line static become a reminder of all the lines – race, class, iron bars and barbed wire – we’ve constructed between ourselves. If we allow them, these pieces can open new, shared spaces for us in spite of these boundaries, if only for a moment. Take a chance with us: listen.

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Life Lines is an audio journal of poetry, spoken word, and other creative writing by men on Death Row, USA. Contributors live on Death Rows in North Carolina and Tennessee. Life Lines is about connection. It’s about finding surprising spaces to share endangered, beautiful life. It’s about recognizing our power and our powerlessness to give and take life. We feature three new pieces each week, words which we hope invite communion, however limited and imperfect, with those struggling to live inside state prisons. Because of state laws restricting access to prisons, the authors record these poems by phone. As you listen carefully, let the line static become a reminder of all the lines – race, class, iron bars and barbed wire – we’ve constructed between ourselves. If we allow them, these pieces can open new, shared spaces for us in spite of these boundaries, if only for a moment. Take a chance with us: listen.

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