Power Tools

By - Mar 4, 2020

His house he built by hand, from scrap, piece by piece by piece by piece. Still, he can never decide whether the ground-objects are things found, or things lost.

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Feed the Ducks

By - Feb 20, 2020

“This is all wrong,” I say. I put my hand on Phil’s shoulder. Every surrounding sound feeds into the strangeness; every distant dog bark and car alarm, mothers calling to their children at the playground, the crush of radios. “This is not right at all.”

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Do It Like This

By - Feb 17, 2020

This whole thing—I felt like my life was on the brink of something. And it was, obviously. “We’re going to be parents,” I said.

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Your First Ex-Boyfriend

By - Feb 14, 2020

I’m going to be your first ex-boyfriend

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Poem for the recently laid off

By - Feb 13, 2020

You are no longer twenty-seven or twenty-eight
Or twenty-nine or thirty

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Five Microcosmographies

By - Feb 11, 2020

The guard called me by name, a name he gave me and that is not worth repeating here. Today outside of the museum, I strained to see the emerald through the window. Over the heads of couples picnicking across a long lawn, the guard waved to me.

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By - Jan 20, 2020

41st was my block.

Forty one hunned.


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You and Me and Like, Where Do We Go, After All This Time?

By - Jan 13, 2020

I fucked my best most prestigious dog in the world today. Fucking my best dog in the world felt so good.

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By - Dec 17, 2019

I intended to write about the brutal car wreck I was inches away from being involved in but didn’t. Now I must trick my body again.

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Drone Gone!

By - Dec 9, 2019

Norman warned him once. Of all the places you could fly that thing! he yelled at the sky, loud enough for the kid to hear him. It was a perfect blue day, the trees were still, our coffees still hot.

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Two Stories

By - Nov 25, 2019

You can gamble in the casino of stars at night where the moon looks like a pill and God deals you a terrible hand and there are no limits. You, the famous unknown, holding your baby and your syringe, waiting to be discovered by reality. Head full of sky, throat full of spiders.

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By - Nov 20, 2019

in his professionalism, he seemed slightly nervous as though i might
keep asking him to touch me more and more places, but i didn’t, i too
remained professional, i said, ok thanks for looking i just wanted to make
sure, and i sat up, and he went back to his seat across the room

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