A Story Narrated by the Boy Who Collects Flies on His Face

By - Feb 7, 2019

They shout, “Come out, come out, Gabby! We only want to write funny old words on your back!” But you should know by now that these words are by no means funny. The words these men want to write are so ugly that they are not even words anymore, but touches.

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Conspiracy Theories

By - Feb 4, 2019

II. War

Only boys play war. Every boy picks a gender: boy or girl. Every boy wants to pick girl but no boy has the courage. The silence between the question and the answer is the war. The rest of the game is spent alone.

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By - Jan 28, 2019

They say Front Street isn’t good now.

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A Series

By - Jan 21, 2019


The pain is having been seen for myself –

         and then having this vision 


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I Called Shotgun When You Died

By - Jan 11, 2019

I called shotgun when you died, thinking we could still ride together through the neighborhood, selling bags of light to the newly dead. It didn’t seem fair that you had to cross the river by yourself.

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Heartbreak, Texas

By - Jan 4, 2019

You are not the alarm clock and you are not the styrofoam cup, you are not this bed, or pillow, or the rug I bought today.

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69 Remakes

By - Dec 24, 2018

Remake of Home Alone where I break into my dad’s house, hide in his bed with a knife, and, when he finds me, calmly say, “tuck me in, motherfucker.”

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Three Shorts

By - Dec 17, 2018

They are dreadful. They fill us with dread. We know that we fill them with dread, too.

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By - Dec 14, 2018

He stood facing the bar, lodging himself in between two stools as he downed drinks and decided why he was there, what he wanted. Yes, he would let love in for once. It would be gorgeous but faceless: steel-like with no sagging. Their reflections would blur namelessly into one.

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By - Dec 12, 2018

The sky was plumb and decorated with the ruptured birds. Even from such a distance, the agonized screeching ricocheted between the houses and onto the roof where we sat.

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A Seabird

By - Nov 28, 2018

Still, my early roots hurt. Swelling hurt. The earth was like a nightmare, very damp and crawling.

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By - Nov 26, 2018

Like, think of the sound of sipping coffee from the rim of the cup when the coffee is too hot. Or, imagine he was sucking pleasure back into himself and it burned.

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