Category: Fall 2018
- January 13, 2019
The irony isn’t lost on me — the sushi on my plate speaks, how tragic. On the TV fishermen haul, gut, chastise albacore tuna, their blood clotting for human livelihood and I think about Alaska, her blood-bright salmon spotted
- January 13, 2019
The police officer asks me as he fills out a form on his clipboard— routine paperwork for the wallet snagged from my hands by a blur of a man at East 180th. Just 60 dollars and my debit card,
- January 8, 2019
I know you know I was hot. The face that launched a thousand ships–– the statue that made dozens cum before breakfast. Blazes of men lined up to lick the honey that dripped down the inside of my thigh,
- January 6, 2019
I’ve grown to like living at the bottom of a dumpster in an alley outside of Sizzlers. It’s not as unpleasant as one might think—there’s never a shortage of food, and people can’t call you trash if they are
- January 6, 2019
“I just sleep with men,” he says, “I wouldn’t date one.” We sit in my 1999 Mercury Mystique, air chapping our faces from the heater. Snow melts as it meets my warmed windshield. Him: twenty-five, bleached blond, an angular
- January 6, 2019
From his geodesic dome on the Monterey Peninsula Turquoise Seth speaks on the phone though time to the Desert Fathers The voice of one crying in the wilderness Seth speaks but is not heard Because he’s too hip
- January 5, 2019
A year from now when you ask me to share the moment I knew, I’ll say it was the night at the fair when, queasy from the Greek fare and rides that spun us on our sides— “This must
- December 21, 2018
The teacher with one leg always says, May I. Use the Rest. Room. Please, whenever Jamie asks if he can go to the bathroom at preschool. He does not want to rest, and in fact Jamie never takes a
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