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  • Poetry > Free Verse
    Stupid is the first word that appears in my mind as I look at it thumping on my now-wet, wooden, kitchen table. The muted thuds that seem to echo throughout my empty kitchen tap upon the window of my thoughts, and in one long, quiet, motion, I slip my hand under the rusty, orange mass and drop it b...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
    In a courtyard She stood, Her hand curved towards Heaven while her ankle veered away from Hell making Her body a magnificent diagonal. Her veins were the thin lines of discoloration, and Her skin blended together thousands of shades years had gifted Her as Her yet formed body awaited to be carved. ...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
    Skin, murky purple like the plums Charlie had bent his sneakers standing on tiptoes to get for her. A nose bent like the tracks of a car that had suddenly skidded off an icy road. Red lips like her own but rouged instead by blood, grotesquely bulging. “School.” Her mother threw the word alon...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
    Waterfalling words cascade over the edges of Bermuda pink sand lips and they pool into my cupped hands but they’re eels and slip right through and more rush down just as I’m trying to catch the ones that have just wormed through my fingers maybe I can’t catch them because my hands aren’t big...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
    Coaxing wisps of truth out of babble – Easier with fingers, not lips. Wads torn up, spattered sweaty Scraps painted with stories. Turned sideways, ignoring curious glances Eventually, eyes closed, full pages. Read my words to you Read myself to you Let you read me....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
    Flores para los muertos But no flowers for me They belong in the clasped hands of girls who slumber in their coffins, Pristine with thick walls to keep them safe from the dirt. I am above ground, For now, And cold, I swathed myself with furs. I dipped myself into water that was not my own ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
    “You will call, but I will be gone” I wrapped ropes around my clasped hands, And tethered them to your mighty mast. With love I let them cut me, And I bled faith. I had fertile fields waiting for my sowing But for you, I blew wildfire and burnt the soil, moist and decadent Turni...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
    We look into the mirror as the mirror looks back at us, reflecting one and the same. There is no doubt about it, I am yours. Darkness sprouts from the top of my skull, cascading down past my shoulders. My eyes bore into the glass. The ceiling has come undone, as simply as I dreamed it would, ...

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