The Day I Found My Poetry/Show Don’t Tell

I remember everything about the first poem I wrote except the most important thing- what exactly it said. Whatever it was, it was scribbled on a small piece of paper. It was maybe… Continue reading

The biological whirrings of the home-made cuckoo clock man.

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Chater First iii.

  After soup and CNN, Jim clicked off the television and went to the hatstand, pulling on his coat. “Where are you going?” she asked, watching him with wide eyes, one hand clutched… Continue reading

Deep Water

I waited a million years for all of these particles of stars to come and lay themselves over me and give me life. I opened brilliant eyes that had shone from billions of… Continue reading

Permalink

I don’t know how you find me through the mess. I am impotent and passive because I don’t understand. Brilliance comes at the worst times, three a.m. no one to hear or see… Continue reading

Chapter First ii.

“It’s Jim,” a low, familiar voice called from behind the door. She felt a rush of love and safety fill the hole in her chest. Warmth flooded through her body as she hurried… Continue reading

Chapter First i.

Emily stared out the window, which was fogging up from her own hot breath. She pressed her slick palm against the cool glass, and it left a smudged view for her to peer… Continue reading

Prologue ii.

A dragging sound woke her, and when she heard the front door open and close she ran down the stairs. The house was silent. The appliances sat in their places, still and waiting.… Continue reading

Prologue

Her small feet made smacking noises as they ran across the hardwood floor. The house was dark, and the t-shirt she wore as a night dress whispered around her ankles. Her thumb was… Continue reading

Glass Mountain

I. I want to sit in the dark and smoke and write poetry that makes promises about the world that can’t be kept. I want to hold the beautiful things in but I… Continue reading