Fiction
This is What You Do
I stood in my kitchen, hands slightly palsied as I poured myself a glass of water from the sink.
Marge Simpson
Knows the heart ache of canaries. Hummimg bird to spilt milk No friends same dress Pearls that rarely dance Five dollar rose bouquets Without a
Hurricane
hurricane Syllables [hur-i-keyn, huhr– or, esp. British, -kuh n] –noun After a couple weeks sentence of staying in some foreign place with trees, she came back home and Miami
Undressing the Sky
In love with dismal days, he told me why: Won by dimensions, his green eyes caress Big bosomed clouds. Suggestiveness of haze Conjures up Milky
Edit
Can’t you let the film spool unseen on the stained floor? Its frames forever static as my fingers resplice our hands. Let my battalions of
Skirt
I. I see a video of women cycling in short dresses talking of how not to flash. They wide-angled their legs, pull the back of