archives

fiction

This tag is associated with 48 posts

william cody

looking at you and i closed speaking in tongues must i swallow this memory too the timely teaching of your name the dripping of that thick life down your chin where each slippery morning there is still rot somewhere a fresh breaking that can be heard over the horizon and the relatable gulp of that … Continue reading

Holidays

Dear dear, These were the holidays. Such is a banal, limp sentence, an obviousness that would knowingly ignite even the most unaware moth. Yet it is blindingly true. These were the holidays. These were the gasps of us among the giving dishes, the bony fish, the dogs that do not feel like the dogs we … Continue reading

your pace

still space for you yet among those things that have left that will never the bowls of pregnant women bellies those that dressed the roman empire the kind that are hanging above a wooden fire fidgeting with the warmth of life and good food the inextinguishable thirst that already knows that this bad now does … Continue reading

every everything

here again in the small stop of your loving i am reminded that this is a tiny end just before you kiss me   it will not happen yet there will be the happy years the faulty focused years where i catch myself in your thick warm arms or in the mirror smiling what can … Continue reading

they never fit anyway

now that i am no longer a poet, i do not see the birds sculpting the sky or the rivers with those long, luscious names or the love that will eclipse the previous loves. rather, dogs poop. i poop. there is poop under my shoe. and scrubbing now, i understand now how someone can easily … Continue reading

don’t come here

come see my house come see my house where the floor creaks come see my creaky house with its spring flowers come see my sweet, flowering house creaking with a summer that my mom says might never end come see my summered, bright house that is smothered by the end of a creek where my … Continue reading

omega 3

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

stuck

glued feathers on these arms with scabby blood flying better than i did you tell me that you know how to close the open wound of the sky where nothing is home by recalling the language lost when my mother cooed her belly with the sanded down statement that i may be here now with … Continue reading

a mess of you everywhere inside of me

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

what the waters tell the land

To the Class of Medicine 1960, I would like to thank you for the Class of Medicine 1960 Research Bursary opportunity for my 2018 summer academic term. Without it, I’d be idle and researchless. I’ll admit this latter neologism is not a word, which is both sign of littered learning spent this summer and the … Continue reading