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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    97.5 degree body in 97.5 degree weather shorts cut in a still-curtain bedroom this is why the moon may recline cotton sheets nudged aside by perspiring shoulders and lassitude until he sees his Love, inhale up the porcelain sky, if only for a moment pasty carbon black to ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    herringbone stamped into parted lips doused in cherry smear of two kinds chains of brick red hair interlocking across a bodice of wilted chiffon crumpled air resting upon glossy fingertips and discreet folds of white skin stilettos like twigs keeping glazed pearls and chipped tears com...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    pruned, iced toes frozen already from chilled cement swing and meet algid salt water parting the sheets up the middle laughter recedes mouths in ribbons eyes turn copper vermilion slate umber as the sun slides down the ceramic sky...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    stars burrowed in our hearts illuminate threadbare pockets; holes scratched by salt and smooth card stock; cold hands to warm hearts under a stretched sky pulled each night; they said it was lovely at seven; rolling over and snatching the blankets in bed; ceramic teeth scatte...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    It's like Pop and I are surrounded by Susie's old dress. The same blue color with a hint of gray-- from when Mom washed my heather t-shirt with it. And it goes on forever. And it makes me think of Susie and how she never came back from school that one day that seems a million years ago. An...
  • Nonfiction > All Nonfiction
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    The thrill of not being “It” always injected a flow of relief through my veins. There was this sort of shame in being “It”; you were the one who had to search alone to find your peers, unsure of whether or not they were peering you at you from that bush or were changing their original hiding...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    They cannot smoke inside Sign says And anyway, the smoke will subside, Leaving their demeanor harsh and gray. Still, they walk outside and huff and puff, Their yellow teeth exposed to the cold. Their shoes scratch the icy path, rough, And on their way they go....
  • Poetry > Haiku
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    Ideas are like Waves; they may be surf-able or they may subside...

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