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Altar
Let’s make a little altar here from the things that we collected while we walked. Let’s make a little altar from the broken sticks, the colored leaves, the tiny stones that pressed between our palms like everything. Let’s make a little altar from the love notes and the bits of songs the promises and tears…
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Domestic(ate).
Don’t leave that there for me to find. I’ll never see it, hiding among the dirty dishes and the piles of laundry dumped out and waiting to be folded (worn dumped washed dried dumped repeat) and the half-empty ketchup bottle on the counter with the coffee filters the Pine-Sol stench and the blue toilet water…
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Dregs
If you don’t believe I’m an optimist, you’ve never seen me at the tail end of winter waiting for the vagrants to drag their weary bones across the lawn, leaving trails of dust and grooves from worn-down heels gaping mouths turned toward the clouds praying for rain while the birds drop hulls from angry beaks…
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2016
Funny all the cracks that made your surface interesting, once upon a time have filled in now with dirt and grime and no amount of scrubbing can restore them Leonard Cohen left us blissful mirror-gazing at each other, dancing long and slow, until the end until the end and we were cavernous, and gaunt like…
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Here We Go With the War On Christmas Again…
How long ago did I write that thing about how saying “Happy holidays” meant you were a child of Satan? It’s been a few years, but we’re still dealing with people who take some kind of personal offense to being greeted that way rather than with “Merry Christmas.” Now, Donald Trump is being hailed as…
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The Teenagers’ Guide to Pitching Plans to Your Parents
How not to drive your parents crazy when you’re texting to make plans
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Vultures
circling, waiting for the chance to pluck the eyes out of the children
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Spot Light.
In the hallways, we shared stories of the darkness, passed folded slips of paper palm to palm, like contraband secret payment for the ticket to get in We hid in corners, trading tales and malcontent, pound for pound, tracing scars and licking salt away from skin The cracks behind the wall bled our secrets through.…
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Dust.
For the first time in my life, I feel old. I am old but I never felt that way before, never felt beat down even when I was beat down. Never felt this ache, this deep this tired fear that’s crept into my bones, my joints my blood my brain. There’s a black-and-white photograph of…
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Election 2016.
It’s almost over. This election season has been hell. I was a Bernie Sanders supporter, and when he lost the primary, I was hit hard. I’m not a political expert by any means; I don’t know a lot about public policy or the ins and outs of political wrangling. I don’t know enough, I guess,…
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April Fox 