The cobalt light first appeared outside Caelan’s window the night Evie went through the ice. A small orb no bigger than a butternut and shrouded in updrafts of blown snow played at…
I’d just gotten off the bus and was hobbling more than usual when the boy came out of the trees, pointed a knife at me, and said, “Give me your money, old…
Words land like pebbles on chalked numbers— each one a small return to the child I was, counting squares as if a future could be hopped into. The afternoon opens like green…
I suggested fishing and then showed up to the dock without any gear. Mira showed up with a cooler full of Fat Tug. The sun above us is an infected eye, red…
Perhaps we want to remove the frame around the picture. I can hear little clicks inside my dream; How apt, I thought, how simply beyond repair. Saint Lucy, you did not hide…
1↑ Writing by: Mary Jo Bang’s A Film in Which I Play Everyone, Anne Carson’s The Glass Essay, Kimberly Grey’s Mémoire, Maggie Nelson’s Bluets, and Lewis Warsh’s Touch of the Whip.
i imagine the whales, the tall slick of them; where lichen sucker and chew bone-white carcass, these live rarities dance in spiral under crystalline waves. beige islands beget seabirds, curiosity. i have…
My muscles sang when I pushed myself out of Mitzy’s outworn Ford pickup. She had jabbered like a Steller’s jay about how she was so happy I was finally home, and how…
A worn red carpet, ill-fitting, covered the long floor ending outside the back room of my great-granny’s house. It had a bump. To step over that claret carbuncle, to push into that…