My love, I held you in the morning fascism.
Head between banisters.
oso the ky eeps dr
cliffs run perpendicular to foaming sea
based upon your form
quiet hums of yesterday float rudely close to my hand
how long I have lived with eyes wide blind,
What did you say?
: or : wedding poem
Sometimes, I think holding someone’s hand is more intimate than kissing someone’s lips. There’s more to lose when you make
“I think I peaked in high school,” I groan to my mother during my obligatory weekly phone call home. I say it with my face
I’m reading a book of essays in Bongo Java when I remember that one of his eyes is slightly lazier than the other. I look up from
I remember when I was small – my feet dangling off the front of the piano bench, too short to reach the pedals, but I don’t
1. In 5th grade, a smart, beautiful girl wrote me a love letter and asked me to the dance. I crumpled up the letter and threw it
The Two Fs of Self-Discovery
The videos he put out in the last five days of his life, the ones after the transformation, will rightly overshadow everything else
(An excerpt from a novel)
Perhaps he didn’t hear Lily or didn’t understand her broken Chinese, but again he reached his hand across the width of the taxi
Over burnt green beans and dry pork chops on the night before her eighteenth birthday, Lyla, not knowing what else to do,
When the therapist leaned over to check the time, Paula snuck a quick peek at her yellow legal pad: “midlife, identity crisis,
