Licking lacking

This category contains 33 posts

between two points

Dear distant friend, I am bustling through Spain onboard a sleek, undisturbed universe of a bullet train with sun licking the already-burnt skin and a raw, restless summer peeking at countrysides past and farmlands unseen.  My prose is the same unadulterated self-masturbatory streaking you are used to in a style shared with the likes of … Continue reading


Dear dear, I want to tell you of the summer where I went crazy. It was hot and I was wet with wilderness the way the ocean is when it combs rock into the soft cooing of a beach and he hadn’t quite killed himself yet. My dad would tell me that we do not … Continue reading

when when meant something

dear dear, it was said that this would be the time of my life. sometimes, it is. days wear sunlight and i can hear an ocean miles away. some of the salt is found in my cup. other times, though, i sit here, baked by the sun, burnt by it, thinking what it means to be turned … Continue reading

time off

dear dear, what does it mean to work? is your every day filled with meaning? do you mean to make it to the next day? are your coworkers mean? are hospitals demeaning? or is it all just mean, an average, a lump, a benign thing that takes the excitement of life and death alike? i … Continue reading

dark was the night cold was the ground

dear dear, in the thick legs of nights like these where i can hear the echoes upstairs beginning to get ready to go out, i wonder what space remains to be discovered? there are the usual stars that hang like the feet of dead men, the small caverns of the sea somewhere in someplace wet from the … Continue reading


Dear dear, I want to give you the words I never did, to tell you how to say things that need to be said in never. There is little to be said now, which is why I have written so much. I am trying to fill in the space to make you feel less like … Continue reading

Blue .

Dear Dear, I am unsure if you have noticed, but in the cumulative three weeks you have hidden in Montreal, it has not rained. Snow has buried. Sun has bloomed. But even among the heaviest clouds that mute the world in gray, all that was held was the promise of spring, of a slow walk, … Continue reading

south for the summer

dear dear, loud geese have died quietly out my open window. jet black has covered their bodies in pylons and the civilized process that lead hands to hold hands. they look like mistakes, splats. the sky was too heavy, the ground even more so. it had snowed. it is snowing. they are freeze-dried now, as men … Continue reading

a conversation

Dear you, Yesterday it was our anniversary. This morning we spoke on the phone. There is a mess of you everywhere inside of me. With striking clarity I remember the fireworks that blew up the sky above us, the sky that for at least that night, that moment belonged to us – only us. But … Continue reading

weep what you sew

Dear dear, There was a time when you dated these letters but I don’t know when it happened. I would say that is my biggest failure, save for the fact that I referred to it as it, and worse yet, I did it again. But I don’t. It could be today. Yesterday. Some other sad … Continue reading