Fiction

Poetry

The God in the Attic

In our attic, among things, as it seems of past lives, lives a bitter God. When guests come to our house, we don’t mention him.

Poetry

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

Poetry

Popular Experiment

  *synth beats* bright plastic blue screen green screen *auto-tune screams* chunky glasses tuned-in apathy *boy band* drive fast die young pretty corpse *twangy guitar*

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

Fiction

Falling Short

I saw everyone, having fallen short, on the ground

Poetry

What is tomorrow?

Tomorrow is that glint in your best friends’ eye, When he proposes a daring plan. Tomorrow is that rainbow glinting in the sky, Reminding you