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how am i to starttelling you about i i have places insideswhere even silence hasnot yet spokeni have a favourite cloudit is sometimes the shape of yousometimes, my chilhoodi have not seen my neighbourhood friends in yearshave you? how would they starttelling you about i perhaps they’d sayi don’t particularly likeendings but even thenone must … Continue reading
more more than this you must give me more i am not armed for aimless love for the faded sundays under lazy fans the lukewarm spreading of a family cat the dispassionate mumbling between a blanket and duvet and the needless needing by tea left alone in the microwave i am equipped with years of … Continue reading
did you eat vegetables sleep on a good mattress remind yourself on nights like this that she is not coming back did you move to music you don’t know go to the beach three times in the summer sit under hungry waves where it is most dangerous then swim above where others have not did … Continue reading
don’t you miss the days of knowing how to get back here to the poured place where birds warn against the morning’s warm slaughter and the crowds sigh against the other team’s score and what of those atoms scratching at my window to see me late at night thinking of no more than a bundle … Continue reading
leaves lost on electric lines that can be heard in the summer with the air condition and beams of sun that bake into the darkness but not tonight where they land on quiet orange and green and ketchup red stems limp like little feet of a man hanging or just a boy who used to walk around … Continue reading
Bury the bodies where they lay and lay down still like a beast when you tire She cries before we say a word to each other, and years have been silenced in the perfect sentence that expresses all we need to without expressing anything, that attempts to say what can’t be said but is said … Continue reading
If you fit human history into a poem you find that anything that has happened has happened because of love and anything that didn’t was because of love too, which leaves you wondering who made you write the poem in the first place. * 3 am creeps finding me lonely in bed listening to the … Continue reading
I’m told you’re a writer. Not really. What do you do then? Some things. Like what? I teach. What? Chemistry sometimes. Do you do chemistry? Not anymore. Then why teach it? I guess because I can, because I did do it for a while. Sounds like an excuse. Maybe. You must’ve not enjoyed it enough. … Continue reading
On the night I died, I watched myself. I was pulled from my body and stood above myself like an angel on a Christmas tree: there I was, sleeping, no snoring, and I rocked in a soft bed. The sheets smelled. The stench rose as high as I did. I tried to climb higher, but … Continue reading
They killed Jesse behind the shed. It was on one of the mornings where the sun doesn’t seem like it’s going to rise, and it just sits there on the haze. It titters and totters, it dips and drops, and just when you think it’s not going to make it and there will be night … Continue reading
The following was written in anticipation of my thesis. The final copy was heavily edited. * When the scarlet red ribbon was cut revealing the naked gray building shaped no different than any of the other cement tombstones from the past, a murmur of hesitant disbelief crept through the large crowd. Ten years ago, the … Continue reading
Dear Kacper, I think I should start with a hello, though it may be wasted on you. Business, and the slack jaw rapidness of an auctioneer, is your mode of conversation, so I’ll instead hope that wherever you are, it’s sunny and you’re happy. I can’t tell if you are, to be frank. I know … Continue reading
If breakfast is the most important meal, then today must be the most important day in my life for today is the day that I will have breakfast with anyone I want to. Everything has to be prepared. One slip up, and I might certainly be disappointed. Both of us might. Who knows – my … Continue reading
With two sturdy hands clasped against a wooden steering wheel, he slowly backed from our stone driveway. Inch by inch, he descended. The numerous bumps, scratches, and dents glimmered in the sunlight as he honked a symphony of goodbyes. Our dog Bo barked back a tune of confusion all the while wagging his tail like … Continue reading
My father spoke the only truth that I have ever heard in my life. It was a rainy day. My mother was crying. I asked her why. She said because the weather was making her cry. I asked my dad why was the weather making her cry. He said we were all born liars. That … Continue reading
My speckled hands fade away in the crumbling dirt. I look down as the dust-riddled wind playfully brushes over them creating the illusion that my knuckles, although cracked and red stained, are a never-ending expanse of rolling hills. Each fleshy trough is met with a bony crest; each bony crest, a fleshy trough; and so … Continue reading
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