Here’s to the rubble: starlight starts to grow quietly. The world comes to chaos so quietly. Gravity promised to give up for a minute if we told it the things we know, quietly, so we let foggy breath … Read More
In Arkansas, five thousand blackbirds fall on New Year’s Eve, pepper kernels crunching up pavement. The street-sweeper parks and stares. Does not know who to call. The corpses are cleared but they keep missing spots, like when mother paid me … Read More
Last night I caught you sleepwalking again: you stumbled to the hallway and curled your toes against the hardwood, spun like the skipping track of a cross-eyed orbit. I had forgotten what you look like off-balance. Your nightmares only ring … Read More
