Fiction
Cold Lights
Outside my window there is steam
and there are lights in a skyscraper
where people sit at their desks
and the lights let them work.
Upon Impact
In the bedroom they used to share, the real estate agent opens the blinds, letting in the mid- morning sun, then walks toward the desk
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
This is What You Do
I stood in my kitchen, hands slightly palsied as I poured myself a glass of water from the sink.
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
Dear Spec
___The featured image accompanying this piece, entitled ‘Spectrum’, has been used with the permission of artist, Robert Alan, a mixed media artist from New York