One way to measure the passage of time is to count the number of days since you last had sex. I’ve lost count. I only know it’s been more than three years for me and my husband—at least with each other. I know this because
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We spent our state tax refundon an inflatable hot tub, a bottle of peach wineand a couple filets of Alaskan salmon. Also— a bundle of asparagusI picked up at a carport farm
THIS IS NOT A RIDDLE What’s that old joke about the snake that wasn’t a snake? Or was it a pipe?
Eben E. B. Bein (they/he) is a biology-teacher-turned-climate-justice-educator at the nonprofit Our Climate. They were a 2022 Fellow for the Writing By Writers workshop and winner of the 2022 Writers Rising Up
Woke up to shy blue//Thought about praying//Forgot how to//Kept my hands pressed together anyway//Drank half a pot of coffee//Used extra cream because my mouth//Wanted to feel as full as it does holding
Grasshoppers in the Virginia Foothills of Nevada are not your cute green cartoony hopper. They’re Hollywood monsters – true competitors of Mothra. Other animals wither in the hot baking summer sun while
My goddesses tell me that before i bow down and pray, imust kneel and heed i must kneedand heed the answers that becomemogras in the mouths of maa kali a world you
Alone as I am, the spirits waft in. The invisible reunion tingles my finger pads. I spread my arms like flying; give me your weight. A tarot spread asks to know you,
Deep in the crow boned blue onslaught certain plumes are apostles intoned to the skyfall with heavy luring I promised silkworms beetroots or a love poem for letting me murder winged-nomads Told
Why make it easy, as you say, a scar to sooth a runawayunadorned by ink or stitch, just its function,to make no sudden moves, to empty me out,to be unseen, bone-dry, as
Every artist that has come through this town has paintedthis warbled church, made to look like the rock formationsin the distance, made to look like God. I am lousy at anything but