My stupid brain is telling me to go to the park so I’m going now
texts my 9-year-old nephew and I wish my brain would tell me something wholesome instead of, the apocalypse is now and we are already zombies, scrolling through... Read more.
Depravity Begins (A Found Poem)
Thinking of love / as a radical act. An eclipse of moths. A man without dust on him. My grandmother’s stories were folding inward, like a star under gravitational... Read more.
