they call it a-gora-phobia when you’ve had enoughof the anxiety and panic the world brings when you’d rather lie in bedwith the shades pulled and the lights off than go to the grocery store when you’d rather open a 2011 Tempranilloand watch TV than get a good walk in doesn’t matter the air
Read More
Be it to deserts, water, tumors, guns or lungs that quit working—those gone are gone. I talk to headstones and wonder if I’m crazy; when I talk to people about crazy things I feel sane. Sometimes my tongue seems foreign and won’t
Read More
We’re hanging in deep heatover the husk of old Abilene, a host of buzzard tourists in teal and tungsten anti-grav Wellingtons. The guide-track waxes wisein our sprouted earbuds: Through the last days,their abandoned missile silos filled with slant rain. The locals dove deep in those dark pools, came up
Read More
it’s easier to clean up after a party of one. close the bag of doritos, turn off netflix, and it’s almost like it never happened. i long for the echo of laughter in my ears, for glitter still pressed on my body, for sweat that smells like someone else, for
Read More
my son lets me sleep two or three hours at a time and that’s just enough for the body to function but not nearly enough for the spirit I’m trying though it’s all I can do now that he’s here to try
Read More
I imagine the worst things happening in air. When he texts me that the plane had to land because it was leaking he is not afraid – he doesn’t realize this is my nightmare made real. I do not fear monsters or
Read More
We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us… ~Gene Wolfe I wasn’t afraid when I first saw you— I just felt bad, thinking you must have the worst real estate agent in history to end up wedged
Read More
I like to tell it like it happened in July so there can be implications of watermelons, fireworks. In December, though, the blood on the house and snow are peony blooms in red and white. But if it’s in July, there can
Read More
The morning is silver with birdsong. Clapboard chapel sides thunk down in the grass as nude pews shudder. The priest is sick. His coughing will curse both houses. The rings will roll off the knuckles that don’t exist. Crinoline waits, a virgin in the dress shop, untouched
Read More
Across the old woman’s ceiling, the stain spreads its puckered areola, water hooping frayed ripples in the plaster where something broke, leaked in the apartment upstairs, where naked lights shine cold-clear as through windows cobalted with Madonna and child. This godforsaken place.
Read More