Poetry
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…And All I Got Was This Stinking Fruit
I botch yachaejeon / and bin the evidence.
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A Million I Miss Yous
Ten years without your famous spaghetti and meatballs. / Ten years since you told me, “Never forget me.”
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Another Ash Wednesday Yet Again Un-Ashed Yet Marked All the Same
I abstain / from thoughts that lie and harm. / I give up / the urge to give up.
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Born Into the Silence
Nina Tacha, how / did you pave your way?
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December Geminids
My boyfriend is doing / birthday ketamine / at the ocean bluffs under the Medusa tree / with forty of our closest friends.
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Last Chapter
Reader, haven’t we been through this before? / Haven’t we skinned ourselves bare / for the benefit of applause?
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Messy House
I haven’t been dusted in years. / My laundry is piling up.
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On Spotting a Man Contemplating Jumping Where I-35 Meets I-37
Come back / toward the median, the striped choices / made of asphalt. Come back / toward us.
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Stem to Stern
When I was younger / and more naive, / I’d try to stitch my skin.
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Stillness and Motion
I fly, untied / yet numb / with all there is to know.
Prose
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#4863
Feeling! Crackle! Sizzle! Excelsior! Hahahahahaha!
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Die Like This
In my first life I was a dragonfly, skimming above the scud of a verdigris pond.
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Human Intervention
I’m addressing you in this manner because apparently, they act like books are people here.
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I Hear It Too
Kurleigh, to most people, seemed like a blanket covering the sun, with its rays peeking through small holes in the clouds.
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Roll for Perception
Your local game store is small, with a niche collection of the dorkiest tabletop and card games you’ve ever seen.
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Texarican
My hands smell like my mother’s do every time I make sofrito.
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Things Fall Apart
Mother Nature heaves in despair as she watches her green gradually beaten into brown.
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