The Arrest, in all its surreal narrative trappings, supercars, and Hollywood theatrics, wants to know if words can save us in a dystopia.
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After “Good Bones” by Maggie Smith Life is short, and I cannot keep thisfrom my children. Life ends with one breath,and my children, though young, know too muchof endings. I have no
today i look the half-pigin its eyes enteringthe cooler it stares from the icy lower shelf& asks what i am grateful for fragile things end up in pieces back here& pieces
The other day, I read an article that reminded me of what happened with David. I was on the bus, skimming my news app, and then I realised how similar the story
Low Tide at the Double Bluff Off-Leash Area / General Anesthesia Unexpectedly, a bit of tissue passes Lynne Ellis writes in pen. Their words appear in North American Review, Poetry Northwest, The Seventh
Ode to Good-Bye The moon was whole but thought itself
Rescue cans stick in the sand like safety orange graves. They lean towards the sea, mercury-still and prickedwith bright-capped swimmers. I’m insubstantial in the heat, a voice that sweats. I can almost hear the
Here is what happened: On the eighth of August in the year 2010, a nineteen-year-old college student flips her car on the stretch of road that the church ladies always said would
I am gradually learning to speak a loud my wants into the air hey siri pull up booty pix since anything that can be called to mind can be
The man who kept a book in his pants came by it honestly. That is to say, Terrance did not simply see a book and think, And into my pants this must
still life with candle in the event that you’ve lost me in the dead / of winter—know i am probably somewhere tryingto stay lost. probably somewhere / in the middle of eating