Explore

Stocking shelves, like serving, is a job that will not let go of your mind.

“Well, it’s a dark world, Suzanne. She’s old enough to know that.”

That piece of flesh you’re with is a high school student, a minor.

The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen has become the saddest.

I pictured you at Bagram Airfield in a metal coffin, quiet and still.

You mixed a drink of sugar, rum, brackish debris. The ice was finite.

You didn’t speak, your eyes lobbed incendiary shells over the harbor.

They found her where such girls are found. A Manhattan street.

We were assigned straight to the lion’s muzzle, the Sardasht front.

I walk over to her for what seems to be an eternity. “May I have this dance?”

He could not stop marveling at the velvet quality of
her skin.

The palm’s outline shimmied in the sunlight against the aqua curtain.

I saw the man for the first time in Budapest on the Széchenyi Bridge.

Those are the horses you win on, the ones that want to kill you.

The horse is beautiful and would rather be doing anything else.

After seventeen years we’re parting ways. Breakups hurt, even this one.

How do we bury
the dead stacking up against our picture window?

We were aiming for a complete transformation of society.

I could feel the floor’s slight pitch. We were in for a long, long voyage.

He doesn’t have to lie about oatmeal. That’s the way things are for him.

Claim to be Choctaw or Cherokee. Claim to be a princess too.

Wake up drenched in sweat, with fatigue that reaches to your marrow.

Ask your mother about babies. Ask her about the baby that died.

He had come to weavers’ Harris to make some testament.

Our hopes swirled around the act of swallowing a teaspoon of yogurt.

You walk into your gramma’s kitchen only once for the last time.

He was a child. He was dead. He was the shaft of a Long-tailed Astrapia.

She looked at him with sorrow, and surprise, despite all the news.

I lost my pen, I lost my keys, and my hat somewhere on a table.

On Saturdays I listen to folk music, lead a life devoted to exodus.