- February 16, 2019
At the wedding of my longest standing friend I lost my voice. “Oh, how do you know Beau?” “He grew up two doors down.” Cough. Here you get a worried look, like the plague might come back in full
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Category: Spring 2018
- February 16, 2019
If I could dump this mind like a bucket I’d weigh less than a whisper across water, less than a minnow swimming in panic, contained and vibrating bait. How did we kill them? I don’t remember that part. How
- February 5, 2019
Strings of dollar bills hang from the ceiling as though they’d been put up to dry. Thousands and thousands of strings of dollar bills. Most of them crumpled into withering monetary lungs. They pack the small, dark, grey room
- February 5, 2019
While listening to an author recite her latest poems, I become infatuated with her voice, with the magnetic vulnerability made lyric by her art… how the courage to reveal herself turns the words she speaks into a lure of
- February 5, 2019
Along Namık Kemal Avenue men sell nectarines from pickup trucks— mounds of them someone’s fashioned into pyramids. I go past down toward the park thinking, poetically, of nectarines and you because I can’t decide on the color of your
- January 29, 2019
i. Jagged peaks ripping into the horizon was what I witnessed as we sped down I-8, cutting through the middle of the state that is only for lovers. Signs for this cavern and that cavern, each proclaiming the biggest
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