Fiction

Short Story

Fall Cranes

Back home, my sister’s bedroom overlooked our back deck. She could climb out her windowsill and drop down a few feet onto the wooden planks

Short Story

Wednesday

  It’ll be a Wednesday. It’ll be cloudy outside. There will be fog creeping over the ravine and remnants of an early-morning rain still drifting

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

Short Story

Paper Boat

Three walls of the room are made of tin, but on the fourth side a polished floor opens, running like fabric into curtains of lace,

Fiction

Falling Short

I saw everyone, having fallen short, on the ground

Poetry

Treading The Fire

maybe beauty will remain an abstract dirge; a mantra to be ruminated over like a submerged leek becoming tender in warm water. as it seems