Monthly Archives: September 2012
only the sky remembers
Many years ago, the night did not end and the stars did not live far. People threw the stars across the world, and once they landed, they were thrown again. The sky was a loom of lights — arcing, burning,
only the sky remembers
Many years ago, the night did not end and the stars did not live far. People threw the stars across the world, and once they landed, they were thrown again. The sky was a loom of lights — arcing, burning,
no nervous system
She called me last night, sounding like she’d been running. “I can’t find my jellyfish,” she said. “Are you sure you’re not wearing it?” I asked. “Of course!” Then she quieted. “Oh, no, no, no, no, no….” “You took
no nervous system
She called me last night, sounding like she’d been running. “I can’t find my jellyfish,” she said. “Are you sure you’re not wearing it?” I asked. “Of course!” Then she quieted. “Oh, no, no, no, no, no….” “You took
killer kisses
“It’d never work between us — my kisses would kill you,” said Scissors to Paper. fiction | Tommy Tung photograph | Pixabay
killer kisses
“It’d never work between us — my kisses would kill you,” said Scissors to Paper. fiction | Tommy Tung photograph | Pixabay
marine
When Simone brought the sea to my house, I realized I couldn’t put it anywhere; I hadn’t cleaned the garage or the den. She set it down in the kitchen for now. I had questions about how she stole an
marine
When Simone brought the sea to my house, I realized I couldn’t put it anywhere; I hadn’t cleaned the garage or the den. She set it down in the kitchen for now. I had questions about how she stole an
to live and die in L.A.
In Tibet, there are no words for low self-esteem. In Los Angeles, there are enough to pave the streets. There are plenty to describe hubris, too, for many come to revise themselves. The challenge of residency then is neither worshipping
to live and die in L.A.
In Tibet, there are no words for low self-esteem. In Los Angeles, there are enough to pave the streets. There are plenty to describe hubris, too, for many come to revise themselves. The challenge of residency then is neither worshipping
margarine
“Butterflies taste like margarine,” she said, and I should have asked how she knew that, but instead I mixed our faces together and made them waltz, and I can tell you now she tasted like a Siren, drowning me in
margarine
“Butterflies taste like margarine,” she said, and I should have asked how she knew that, but instead I mixed our faces together and made them waltz, and I can tell you now she tasted like a Siren, drowning me in
Fiction Mostly 