Fiction
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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
Auto-crimes
She cornered herself against the shoulders of two meeting walls and wrote her screams into the plaster. The sun was a blade against her skin
Opposable
How do I write with these frantic fingers Left index plugs tearing right aorta Right hand holds closed ripping left ventricle I am hopelessly, entirely
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
Four Brothers
He’s the sweet taste of strawberries on fluffy shortcake, with eyes that reflect an enormous Heart that’s displayed prominently on his sleeve.
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