After Jennifer S. Cheng 1: the sea captured in a glass 2: a homophone for having enough for leftovers, a synonym for abundance 3: the fish, who have already forgotten you. It’s not personal 4: where memory fails, there’s still imagining 5: you. Not as an ocean but outside 6: glass and/or acrylic
Read MoreWilladean was the one who suggested we take the cat home. If it was up to me, I would’ve left it meowing behind that dumpster at Denny’s. My stomach was packed full
We watched free solo about the guy who climbed el capitan with no ropes always one finger grip away from death and as we sat glued to our computer screen for two
Cyclical Renunciations No more photographs in waiting.No more visuals from inner eyepurged, nor visions of dreamswe cannot grasp in our everyday.I’ve dropped my life through life itself,only to find in its metal
a quarto for L.B. all alone in the dark
A blue backpack, filthy, open. Five-year-old Liza was miles from the campsite—metres? What was a mile? Minutes. It had taken her roughly five to get here, to this tree with its fat
I’ll tell you from experience that the night sky looks different after your mom dies. When the moon is out and you remember some old poem about how every person that has
I bore the badlands, burned my birth certificate in a sweat of cedar. Shed light upon the burial. So obsessed with stars I toiled with the earth, knowing nothing of the sacred, where
In a cafe this morning I jammed my toast with a knife as I listened to a pair discuss how to brand comfort, one of them maintaining that good design is dependent
I see a shadow at the edge of everything, dear friend, I see a darkness, anhinga with its ink wings wide. Some mornings the world smells of ocean, others of rust. Some