Fiction

Poetry

Godland: Sammie Jo

Sammie Jo don’t talk much. Her mother like to cut out her tongue any time she speaks up. A bone outta socket. As big as

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.

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

Memoirs

Outwitting Mom’s Cable Company 

  The day after my mother’s funeral I called Comcast to cancel her cable TV account. A recorded message led me through a series of

Poetry

Kierston

Meet me in the mountains Of Oregon (Washington’s been having too many fires). It won’t be hard to find me- Just look for the earthship,

Poetry

The Lives of Invisible People

In the coffee shop watching all the invisible people. The Chinese cellist reading aloud without a sound, the two men nearby trying to flirt inconspicuously,