Story of My Sky

poetry
  To the people, food is the sky — Ban Gu, Eastern Han Dynasty, The Book of Han   Our sky was limited when I was young, quota stamps for…

Rust

poetry
  I was never very good at fishing. I'm thinking about a single speck of blood: long & drawn out. Someday is a funny little thought that keeps my horizon…

Nectar

poetry
  Then each bud was a gem left in the sun, ungathered. What names the men had given slipped or burned like dew. We knew the words had once been…

Preservative

poetry
  She has licked her children’s tears off their faces or her own when they came that close to her. She has eaten sleep taken from the inner corners of…

Give and You Shall Receive

poetry
  After our widowed mother’s funeral, my brother and I pick through her stuff. Feeling like grave robbers, we sort keepers from discards. I start finding the presents I gave…

Callisto

poetry
  disambiguation Callisto may refer to a dead moon or a girl in a bear suit. Girl in a bear suit may refer to itself & its reverse, a recursion…

Callisto

poetry
  & the mad honey Last night I dreamt I went to Dairy Queen again I went to the grocery store & stress-ate fistfuls of cavolo nero & no one…

Gender Diagram VI

poetry
+++++++++ +++++++++breathe into your Gender +++allow your Gender to soften with each exhalation ++++++hold your Gender in for a count of four ++++++++++++pause +++++++++let your Gender out for a count…

to the girl who once was me

poetry
  I find comfort in the rhythm ++++++of the tide’s twice-daily cycle, ++++++++++++covering, then revealing ++++++++++++over ten feet of snails and seaweed, ++++++slippery rock. This long, slow breath a constant…

Takeout

poetry
  The smell of beef ramen rises from the bag between my boots. Sitting in the passenger seat on this January night, I wait in the Whole Foods parking lot…

Aubade with the Sound of Falling

poetry
  What is the geography of intervention? In you the hours weep even the rain. Down the long corridor of night, the dawn sirens. You, separated from your name &…

Letter from Future Haunts

poetry
* —after “Letter to Someone Living Fifty Years from Now”  by Matthew Olzmann * Though the bees are dead, we still have flies. They’re good pollinators. They keep what manages…