Walking home around 4PM last fall, I spotted a can in the middle of the sidewalk. Strikingly silver and apparently full, since it wasn’t blown over. No logo, no nutrition facts, no label, only the reflected sun and these words, in shaky black Sharpie: CUM CAN, PLZ DRINK.
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Bermuda grass is a weed, in my mind. Something unwanted, with a root system extending 35 feet down into the bowels of the wash that runs through my neighborhood. A friend told
Winner of the Sonora Review Issue 80 Nonfiction Contest, selected by Melissa
What happens inside this high school classroom is the one thing she
Jaimeson Oakley (He/They) is a trans/queer writer from the hills of Lucasville, Ohio. He is currently a poetry student of the Northeastern Ohio MFA creative writing program at Kent State University. They
Winner of the Sonora Review Issue 80 Nonfiction Contest, selected by Melissa Faliveno “My first reaction to most things is, ‘Fuck this, fuck you, this is bullshit,’” I said. My therapist blinked.
It arrives on my doorstep and I unbox the thing like it’s radioactive, and for all I know, it could be. The wonders of modern medicine are beyond me, and bad news
I. After six years of dating, after your fourth breakup with Tall Glass of Water, the water heater explodes and floods your things, the things you have finally moved from your coveted storage unit
Well met, well met, my ain true love/
well met, well met, cried he
Bermuda grass is a weed, in my mind. Something unwanted, with a root system extending 35 feet down into the bowels of the wash that runs through my neighborhood. A friend told
What happens inside this high school classroom is the one thing she promises never to write about.
Walking home around 4PM last fall, I spotted a can in the middle of the sidewalk. Strikingly silver and apparently full, since it wasn’t blown over. No logo, no nutrition facts, no
It’s easier and faster to cross into Mexico on foot. Park on the U.S. side, tuck a passport into a pocket, and walk about a mile down a dusty road, toward the
