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  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    sometimes it seems my only pleasure to walk the place where magic meets the real and my feet can feel sharply undivided power while my hair rejoices in infinitely divided skies and day bids goodbye to the dunes with a sun-kiss as the night’s fire-tipped preludes drip into the water it ...
  • Fiction > Romance
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    At some point Emma was talking to a couple of her guy friends, laughing and messing up her hair, like she does. I was sitting on the kitchen table, trying not to look lonely and bouncing my feet to the pulse of the music. A boy came over and we started to talk. I’m pretty sure his name was Daniel,...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    There’s a place that I spent time to recall Where a ball won’t fall and a drop stands tall What’s here a law is there a flaw What will here enthrall won’t awe at all I first met some who were immune to friction They cried and sorrowed at their constriction To them the...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    I wanted to rip and tear something soft and expensive Stomp around, bang on the walls and scream Eat ice cream and cookies until I can’t anymore Then go for a ten mile run in the rain I thought of throwing up into the sink Or breaking the soft skin on my arms with a blade And painting ...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    They took a spaceship and sped far out away from Earth and the Milky Way and into the extended bounds of our own Universe (for there are others far, far out there), but don’t think about it too hard because it is like trying to imagine the amount of grains of rice of a large, large, large numb...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    A white powder tree was looking at me Its red pebble leaves were turning. They'd break and flee Flutter- they're free Like all of the forest was burning....
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    Her sails held high Like lofty wings Her bow pushes on through the brine No anchors aboard her Just the waters before her And the wind that keeps her in stride ...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    Here is the sea full of waves and salt with her flickering brow and wavering shore. A million poems are already wrote but she's beautiful enough for one more. Here is her breath tailored but wild to stir up the clouds but hold down the beach. Here are her shoulders yellow with sun...
  • Nonfiction > Sports
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    What kind of shoes you are wearing, the color of your shirt. At an open gym I walk in anonymous. I can put on my gear quietly, by myself. I can fill my water bottle and watch everyone around me. I am beautiful like a clean piece of paper. I am potential. The way you wear your hair, how tall ...
  • Nonfiction > All Nonfiction
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    There was an orange mud and pebbles road that ran in a boomerang shape across the mountain. It was the kind where when you ride your bike down it, your tires make sounds like you are riding on potato chips, not dirt. Sometimes little seedpods fall from the trees, like fluffy caterpillars with purple...
  • Nonfiction > All Nonfiction
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    My thoughts get going at night, when I’m too tired to control them. Most of the time I can fall asleep and let them run on autopilot; tire themselves out. By morning my brain’s fuzzy and mostly empty, except for scattered memories of silly dreams. Scary dreams, wistful ones. They seem li...
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    Photo > Photographs
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    Photo > Photographs
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    Photo > Photographs
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