Fiction

Short Story

One

I can feel the evening sun, warm on my face, but the chill of the wind coaxes me to pull my coat tighter around me. 

Poetry

Where’s Nana?

She’s lighting a cigarette. The first time pops lost his words, I found her between the legs of a railway, staring at the ocean of

Fiction

Falling Short

I saw everyone, having fallen short, on the ground

Fiction

Secondary Colors

June 1st Julia is dreaming. She’s always dreaming. Frothy ocean waves roll over her fingers as they sink into the sand, lifting her up into

Poetry

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