Explore

God was surrounding the chair, leaves flourishing from a sickly tree.

One day, we will all turn into choir girls—all soft and hollow inside.

insomniacs gesturing in a cave of neon light the narrative of their lives

The air has grown inside me. It’s become a sanctuary.

My “lonelymaking.” Also known as my horrible secret, continent-wide.

I slept but never dreamed there. Nor did I feel the need to court a god.

The angel lay in his body effervescent as a flake of alabaster.

I repeated the name thoughtfully, then said no, I didn’t think I knew her.

We might have seen it coming, had we not had our eyes fixed on it.

If you hear your name again just say, Here I am. Maybe it’s the Lord.

When the population was whiter, they fawned over the Korean.

Omens from the Lord, or Nature, the clouds, some darker silhouette.

Zeus’s tongue thrusts straight and deep between my lips.

Here is where you touch the world and here are the words to feel its heat.

People believe; The whole world is part of something.

He’s not the skinny hippie all the paintings make Him out to be.

All my life I wondered what it is to vanish like a ring of smoke.

If only to hold on by opening lord give me this one eighth day

We fed our dreams inevitable sins, the kind you lie about till you grow mean.

We pull up alongside the great body. The fin marks the spot.

We need to stop talking about it, we need to put some pants on.

Her city, but no cats. Specks of color, no cloth.

It wants to name the dead—without a name you wander lost in the sky.

We’d never had a cross word, but I’d never corrected him.

She had yellow cat eyes that she insisted were also blond.

While they stand in line Robin leans into his chest. They don't talk.

There isn’t a nice Jewish boy in sight—not that I’m looking for one.

I was opposed to the taking of human life. I was opposed to all war.

I stop and look at the sky. Suddenly: orange, red, pink, blue, green, purple.