++August, the last of the apricots haunts the trees. Their furred skins, split, rotten and dangerous, crawling with stingers on the unseen side of the globes. ++Above me, buzzards tilt…
+++after Charlie Kaufman Do I have an original thought in my head Does anyone What about an epiphyte Does it bloom with the same knowledge that’s stored in a tree’s…
Larkin said: “I know this is paradise,” picturing those fuck-drunk teens who brushed past him on the cobbled street: the boy’s hand on her hip, beer on his breath;…
Meditate: though you balk at stalk, my tassels tantalize, manchild majazzling, intricate florals radiate out from the central sunflower, butterflies dally, dance, bees prance, bumble, dizzy, bop-pop out like…
If you hold the syringe sideways, is it more gangster? You push the plunger through the barrel. The hilt of the blade hubs the needle, holds the shaft’s darkness…
I feel like I am forgetting something every time I travel. Outside baggage, four excavators paw at the wreckage of the old terminal like the horses whose barn burns…
From his schoolbook, the boy tore out a map of seas. The teacher with her sunny face and scraped-back hair wasn’t looking. The blues were beautiful. He’d never seen…
Your mother wanted to give you an origin story of which to be proud, not the embarrassment of finding out she was pregnant while working the land records of the…