Featured POetry
- September 20, 2023
But still I love you, as how a mother worn by a child’s complaints admires the back of his small head of curls. Or the way a woman leaves her fireplace into winter’s bitter ice with her dog leashed
- September 20, 2023
​“She’s a devil with a little bit of angel dust.” –The Dropkick Murphys Leaving the safety of art school for the uncertainty of being an artist you photographed the detritus along the Williamsburg Bridge: the empty syringes & burned
- December 10, 2022
I see that I am a form in space, sitting and waiting. The red light as alive as my lungs and my kidneys. The car in front of me, the car beside me, the drivers and passengers behind their
- November 23, 2022
She examined her hands meticulously like a bark beetle examines maple branches. A stone-eating politeness permeated her voice. As she spoke, the yachts in the bay, their sails folded, glittered in the sunlight– splinters in the body of an
- May 9, 2022
The first night in the city I saw the sticker of a skeleton and roses on the back window of a rust orange Nova, I think, and smelled the scent of jasmine wafting through the open windows of a
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