Tell me it’s getting late. Know, please. Don’t look, just know. We’re at the bottom of a pool or in an aged motel— A rock or your little finger skips across Yellowed walls and bodies  itch or buzz fluorescent. People forget, everything lingers turquoise. I know a guy who won’t shut up about  frequencies–says that colors are withering or corroding like plants or knives in a stuffy kitchen. Blames air conditioning and the internet. Soon, there will be no pigments. Thick glass p

It was a hollow red, and it smelled like burning, and it crusted over leaf-tips on stems in pots.              If they were real, and not...

A ball of yarn swathed in brown flesh rolling down asphalt hills it keeps getting bigger and bigger like an evil snowball. Worst of all,...

drip. Boom. tack. What I know is twofold: water makes the olive drum beat, and my pillowcase fills up, one grain at a time. Filtered...

I never want to read again. Printed river, carve me through Let me know when studies shiver like song, when single-file lines crease like...

Over the summer, I was abandoned on a concrete bench. Pants and stone alike were slathered in colorful acrylics that bled from every...

Pilfered, picked on, pummeled through, I am the one who points at you! Hungered, eaten, severed boar; Two to steal and eight to store....

The fan whirred softly. I recognized the hum; a noise That could only be heard In absence; a love Felt most strongly In absence; a...

They’re lying, probably; Fur isn’t really that blue, and what you’re hearing are— although this could be a lie too—black valleys, green...