Prose & Poetry

“Okay, my brave little toasters, who’s ready for Show and Tell??” A muted scream erupted from […]

He was tan in October. His sleeveless muscles twitched. Chad did not fuck around. He was

my student wears a beige Carhartt beanie that for a very brief moment, I contemplate stealing.

Madison Square Park in an elderly May where the dogwoods bloom and the London planes thrive.

She was pushing with an intensity that was palpable from our first embrace at baggage claim.

Your car is sporty. Red. A Solara, I think, but you never put the hood down.

Someone found a bloodied pair of shredded jeans. This much was fact among the boys. Who

shades and silhouettes. transparent, translucent, opaque. a little girl in a haze of confusion. there’s no

Unsoldered A paroxysm, an electroshock For two eyes river and sand. A metal sculpture sheared at